


Avengers Assemble (In an Orderly Manner)

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Point Oh Oh Six [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aunt Tasha is the best, Bisexual Tony Stark, Brace Yourselves for How Slow, Bruce Banner has DID in canon, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Edwin Stark - Freeform, Kid Fic, M/M, Mental Health Treated Respectfully, Parent Tony Stark, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Science Bros Science, Slow Romance, Spideypool - Freeform, Win Stark is a Princess Freak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: If Natasha wrote her report on Tony to be as misleading as possible and he were actually a really chill, emotionally healthy guy, how different would the first meeting of the Avengers be?Or: Steve dislikes Tony because of reasons, Tony likes Bruce 'cause he's too pretty, 'Tasha feels bad and Win wants to grow up to be a fist-ist and wear princess dresses.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Point Oh Oh Six [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602685
Comments: 79
Kudos: 389
Collections: Not to be misplaced





	1. Chapter 1

The future was weird. And then things went sideways only two weeks out of the ice. First, he and Agent Romanoff gathered the alien in Germany, then he had to have a very angry conversation with the alien’s older brother and now he was standing on a giant, flying aircraft carrier standing next to a man who could turn into a green monster. A robot man landed and, through speakers, said, “Shall we go inside, gentleman?” Steve had been wrong when he’d told Fury he couldn’t be surprised anymore. 

He’d read everyone’s file, but he wasn’t prepared for just how strongly Howard’s son resembled the man. Tony Stark’s file had only had pictures of the suit. The dossier had painted a very dark picture of him. And Agent Romanoff had shadowed him for a month to write it, so it was probably accurate. The man didn’t disappoint, cocky and dislikable from the word go, initially introducing himself to Banner, saying, “It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.” Banner laughed, and Stark said, “Seriously, I think you’re the most brilliant physicist of our generation. It’s a thrill to meet you. You’re very important in my household, we don’t joke about Dr. Bruce Banner. But, like, what’s your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

Laughing Banner asked, “Secret to what?” 

“Keeping the green guy in?” said Stark.

“That’s rude, Mr. Stark,” Steve spoke up.

“No, it’s fine,” said Banner, “I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t take teasing.”

Things only got worse from there. The man was abrasive and rude to everyone. He kept trying to goad Banner, endangering everyone, but Banner just laughed. When he saw Agent Romanoff in the lab, Stark said, “‘Tasha, you’re in deep trouble. You wrote that mean report that said I wasn’t fit for the field, and yet here I am.”

“I’m sorry, Tony, you’re here now.”

“You’re in big trouble with the boss, he says, if you come for dinner, you’re not allowed to have spaghetti.”

“He knows I love your spaghetti sauce,” she protested. 

“That’s why he says you can’t have it,” Tony nodded. “Whatever this is with the gods of hair, I gotta be out of here by seven.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, do you have somewhere better to be?” Steve asked, irritated. 

“Obviously,” agreed Stark.

“You’re not a hero. Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?” said Steve. 

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” said Stark cockily. 

“When was the last time you got laid?” snorted Agent Romanoff. 

“Good point,” agreed Stark. “Genius, billionaire, human climbing frame, philanthropist.”

It just riled Steve up more. “I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“God no,” he looked at Banner and Romanoff and said, “team, no one is going to be lying down on a wire, okay? I can definitely cut the wire with the suit. Nobody be a hero.”

“Always a way out.” Steve shook his head, “Y’know you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“Oh, a hero? Like you? You’re a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle. I’ll tell you who I am. I’m the guy who built a miniaturized arc reactor and built flying armor in a cave without real power while being tortured for three months. All you did was lay down on a table and let Erskine and my father pump you full of steroids and radiation.”

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds,” said Steve. 

Stark laughed, “Why on Earth would I risk my multimillion-dollar suit in a dog fight with my dad’s science project? I never said I was stronger than you, Captain, I just said you weren’t better than me.”

“You’re nothing like your father, Stark.”

Stark blinked a couple of times and then smiled, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. ‘Tasha, you owe me for your report. I want a sampler with that written on it, cite the Captain. I’ll hang it up.”

“I can’t cross-stitch,” she said.

“You wrote a bad report — that didn’t do its job — and you can’t cross-stitch. Why do you have a bedroom in my house?”

Banner said, “So am I a lab rat?”

“Are you kidding?” Stark grinned at him. “Who among us hasn’t run out of funding and thought, ‘Screw it, I need the results’? Every scientist has used themselves. The half of my scars that aren’t from torture are from trying stuff out that I was reasonably sure was safe. You’re a genius.”

The day got no better. Stark was an abrasive showboat. He was good, there was no denying it, but he was awful. When alone for a moment, Romanoff said to Steve, “Don’t bring up Howard.”

“Howard was a friend.”

“Not to his son,” she replied.

And then there was a hole in the sky and a bomb in the air. But unlike the last time Steve had dealt with bombs and New York, he was grounded. Stark was flying up to the hole. “Stark, y’ know that’s a one-way trip?”

Instead of responding to him, Stark said, “‘Tasha, remind him that my universe lives under his skin. Tell him that this was never your fault. Blame Fury. He needs everyone on his team.”

“Tony, I never meant for you to be here,” she was looking up, holding the scepter in place.

“It’s fine, ‘Tasha. The spaghetti sauce recipe was Ana Jarvis’. It’s in a cream notebook with roses on the cover. And there is a second Iron Teddy. I swap it out every three weeks. I never told anyone because everyone is a bad liar when he smiles. Having two stops it from falling apart. That’s why it’s still miraculously intact. Tell him the Iron Teddy is taking a bath; he won’t argue. Give it a Febreze. They actually only get carefully hand washed about once a year, use your judgment.”

“Okay,” she said, and then the connection cut out. 

After a few moments, Steve said, “Close it.” To her credit, Romanoff didn’t hesitate. They obviously had a relationship even though Steve didn’t fully understand their words.

He saw her slumping down. And then Stark was falling down, and Hulk jumped to catch him. Everyone got to the ground as fast as they could. Stark looked like death but started breathing once Hulk screamed. “I want a grilled cheese… and a PB and J and a glass of milk. We’re going back to my house.”

Thor looked up at the tower and said, “We’re not finished yet.”

“Okay, but then my house for food.”

They got Loki in unique cuffs and a muzzle that Steve would have considered inhumane but, after the trouble he had caused, Steve didn’t care. Then Stark called for something called a party bus. Bruce started shrinking down as SHIELD came, and someone had brought him a change of clothes. Fury started talking about a debrief, and Stark said, “Nope. All-day, you’ve been wanting us to be a team. We’re gonna go do some team bonding at my place, with food, and then we’re gonna shower, in nice, private showers that aren’t on a Helicarrier and then we’re going to sleep. I didn’t want to be an Avenger. I told you I didn’t want to be here. I told you I had to be out by seven; it’s eleven o’clock. Your operative told you I wasn’t fit for this.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t take the word of a woman who frequently dines at your house when she claims you’re too dislikable to work with.”

“What does it say to you that my friend, who is loyal to you, lies for me because I have such a strong desire not to be here?”

“You just flew a nuke into a hole, tell me why you think you shouldn’t be here.”

A large bus pulled up, and Stark said, “You can have your agents back in the morning for a debrief. Dr. Banner isn’t your agent, so he may or may not want to attend. But, as you lied about wanting him here just for the science, I wouldn’t count on him turning up.”

“A party bus?” Fury said, with irritation. 

“There are all of us and a ninety percent dead Iron Man suit, I don’t know what you expected: it’s got space,” said Stark. Then the door opened, and pounding music came out the door. “Bruce, can you grab the feet. Please?” Bruce nodded and helped Stark carry it into the bus. “Cut the music, please,” Stark said to the driver, and the too-loud sound cut out. Walking into the back, Steve saw couches and several bottles of champagne. Tony opened a bottle and said, “Bruce, I have a pretty good workshop in my basement, if you wanna check it out.”

“I thought it was ten floors of R&D,” said Bruce.

“In Edwin Tower,” agreed Stark. “But those labs are going to need redoing. We’re going to my parents’ mansion. It’s got a pretty good workshop,” he repeated. The bus started crawling along. Steve could feel slight zigzags as the giant vehicle moved slowly around all the debris. 

“I don’t know how long I can stay in New York. It’s not friendly to me.”

“Y’know Ross has no power now, right?” asked Stark. He started handing out glasses of champagne. “He’s toothless. Can you have champagne, or is it against your self-control thing? Because, honestly, saying that the secret is to always be angry doesn’t really help me know what triggers it.”

“A glass of champagne won’t do anything.”

Stark handed one glass to Romanoff, saying, “No hard feelings about today, ‘Tasha. It was all unavoidable.” Then he raised his glass and said, “Here’s to everyone surviving. It was a very close call.”

“What do you mean when you say Ross is toothless?” asked Banner.

“Well, two years ago now, he was up for a cabinet position. I wrote an open letter and took out ad space in every major newspaper. It was a spread. It spoke of the danger of a man who would use the armed forces as his own private militia to hunt down his daughter’s boyfriend. It spoke about the inevitability of a lab accident when the army gives a twenty-six-year-old postdoc unlimited funds for a groundbreaking project and then cuts those funds but still demands a result. You were the world’s preeminent nuclear physicist by twenty-six. No one who is that brilliant a genius has common sense at that age, too busy thinking to have cultivated any life skills. Ross was in charge of that funding. I wrote about the fact that, after the first year of your disappearance, there were no reports of a hulk anywhere on Earth. You had a problem, and you had to learn to control it without the help of the people who played a large role in your accident. The army should have helped but, instead, he hunted you. I wrote about the fact that — if you actually watch the footage of what happened in Harlem — you didn’t hulk-out until you were in danger and that you didn’t hurt anyone who wasn’t shooting at you. I pointed out that he wasn’t levelheaded, wasn’t tactically smart, shot at his own child while shooting at you and acted corruptly while using soldiers to achieve a personal vendetta. I pointed out that you are an American citizen who, despite being a brilliant physicist, lives in terrified exile hiding from a government official who betrayed all of the country’s values. He didn’t get confirmed, and he has slowly, quietly been pushed out of the public view. The government isn’t coming for you, Bruce. You should hang around and join my science bro gang. We science; it’s great.” 

“You cleared my name?” asked Banner, sounding stunned.

“Actually, most people had never heard your name, they just knew the green rage monster who broke Harlem, I fleshed you out for them. I used your handsome headshot that the American Physics Association had on file and wrote you as a tragic hero, a genius kid who was trying to help. You became a sympathetic figure and not a scary beast. No one liked a man in power hunting a civilian scientist who got hurt while trying to make a new Captain America. And I spoke about all your research and your amazing publication history relative to your age and showed that America lost a leading light for the future when a spiteful bastard pushed you out. You’re the underdog they wanted to root for. So, you’re good and totally free to play in my lab, publish and lecture… I don’t know if a college would feel comfortable hiring you, but Stark Industry would love you on our research team.”

“Tony, you’ve never met me. Why would you do this for me?”

“Well, part of it is that I just didn’t want someone as depraved as Ross with that much power and part of it was… you’re brilliant, and science could use you. We’ve all made the mistake of using our own bodies in research. You seemed like a nice guy, and you belong in a lab at the bench, not strapped on the slab. The army was pretty pissed. First, I stopped making weapons, then I exposed a dirty secret. But, if you’re gonna have laundry that dirty, someone will out you. My governmental security clearance got downgraded. Worth it.”

“Thank you,” said Banner, appearing genuinely touched. “I would love to see your lab… and maybe a job. It would be nice to be in a lab.”

Stark beamed at the man, “Awesome.” Then he sighed, “I can’t wait for some painkillers, food and sleep.”

“You were dead, Tony,” said Romanoff, “we maybe should have hung around for medical.”

“I wasn’t dead, I was unconscious and not breathing,” the man protested. Then he added, “Not a word to the boss, okay? It will freak him out.” She nodded, and he leaned over, holding a hand out, “Agent Barton, never actually introduced ourselves. I’ve heard so many great things about you over the years. Anyone who can con ‘Tasha into a friendship necklace must be cool. The last few days must have been hell on you. I know some great therapists if you want to talk to a professional.”

“I was awake, inside my head, I was awake. I could hear my voice using my call signals to get on the Helicarrier. I could feel my body’s actions, but I couldn’t do a damn thing… I probably should have gone with Fury tonight… I think I killed SHIELD people.”

“You need a good night’s sleep. You might not get one at the mansion, but you were guaranteed not to if you’re being grilled by Fury. Besides, all day he’s been urging team bonding. You’re an Avenger, you gotta get to know the other Avengers.” He waved around, “I actually have no idea if Thor or Dr. Banner are in it for the long run. I’m just a consultant. I was never supposed to be in the field.”

“I see why Nat likes you,” said Clint. “I got her a nice necklace.”

“I’ll stay on,” said Bruce, “It’s nice to have an outlet for the other guy. Having him inside… it can be tiring. Having something useful to point that energy at… yeah, I’ll stay on… but if I do get lab space-”

“Already yours,” interrupted Stark. 

“I might have to bow out for time constraints, which feels so good to say,” said Banner, smiling at Stark. 

They came to a stop, and the driver called, “Mr. Stark, can you open the gate, please?” The billionaire reached into the suit and pushed something, and the driver said, “Thanks.”

“Thank you for driving with the roads being what they are.”

“Hey, you guys saved New York.”

“By tomorrow, The Bugle will be calling us menaces… or finding a way to pin it all on Spider-Man.”

“I like that Spider-Man,” said the driver. 

“Me too,” agreed Stark. 

They parked, and Stark signed a receipt, and the guy said, “Holy shit. That’s a tip.”

“We really needed the ride, and the roads sucked,” Then he added, “‘Tasha, can you grab the suit’s feet?”

As they stepped out, Steve saw the mansion. “It hasn’t changed at all,” said Steve. 

“No, well, I haven’t lived here since Mr. Jarvis died in 2005,” said Stark. 

“Mr. Jarvis?” repeated Steve. 

“My father’s butler. I built my house in Malibu in ’98, but Mr. Jarvis liked being in New York, so we stayed here.”

“You bowed to the whims of your butler?” asked Steve, raising an eyebrow.

Stark looked irritated, “He wasn’t a servant. That man raised me. He was family, and he was almost 90, I wasn’t going to uproot him from his home.” He gave an angry shake of his head. “I didn’t like this house much, but he spent his whole adult life here. He died here at home, then Happy, Pepper and I moved. We’ve been staying here in preparation for moving into Edwin Tower. We were supposed to move in tomorrow. Obviously, that’s not happening.”

“The boss is going to be pissed,” said Romanoff. 

“He has been in a pissy mood for weeks. I call him boss ’cause he is being so bossy. It’s all tantrums and tears. He wants to go home, and I get it, but I think this will be good in the long run.” He unlocked the door and walked in backward. “If we set the armor here, take it down to the lab in the morning.” He and Romanoff dropped the suit in the corner of the hallway. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Sir,” said a disembodied voice. 

“Hey, J.”

“Hi, J,” Natasha echoed. 

“It is very good to see you both in one piece,” said the voice. “Sir, Master Win is upset in the kitchen. He isn’t listening to me.”

Tony raked his hands over his face and sighed, “No rest for the wicked.” He strode forward, saying, “Kitchen’s this way.” Steve remembered the way, though it was decorated very differently. “Win?” Tony called, turning on the light, “Baby?” A tear-stained face poked up over the kitchen island, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare. And I went to your bed, and you weren’t here, and I came to get sparkle water, and I couldn’t find the light, and I got scared,” he started to cry and rushed to Stark. “You promised to be home for bath time and weren’t even home for bedtime.” Stark knelt to catch him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Win, stupid Nick needed my help. I had to be Iron Man all day. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t supposed to be Avenger, Daddy,” the little boy almost shouted through tears. 

“I know, Win, I’m sorry. There was a big bad guy, and they needed my help to protect New York.”

“We should be in Malibu,” said the little boy with a pout. “Safe in Malibu.”

“Baby, even if we had been in Malibu, it was bad enough that stupid Nick would have called me in. Uncle Rhodey is on deployment and couldn’t come. The X-Men are having a giant throw down with Magneto. And Dr. Doom is trying to start his own country, so the Four idiots are working on it.”

“I like Sue; she’s not an idiot,” protested the child. 

“She associates with idiots,” said Stark. “I brought the Avengers here. Everyone is hungry, do you want some sparkle water and a grilled cheese?”

The little boy looked up for the first time and eyes instantly fixing on Romanoff, “Angry at you, Aunt ‘Tasha!”

“Win,” Stark said, sounding stern. “Aunt ‘Tasha did everything she could to keep me out of the Avenger Initiative. She wrote a really mean, really scathing report. It was so mean about me, and made me look so bad that Captain America still thinks I’m a jerk.” He turned the little boy to look at Steve, “Right, Captain?”

Steve considered his options and crouched in front of the boy, “I read your Aunt ‘Tasha’s report, and I didn’t like him. And all day I’ve looked at him because of Aunt ‘Tasha’s report: he’s a mean, showboat, with no regard for others, he’s not brave and he’s a jerk.”

“See?” said Stark. “She did her very best. So you owe Aunt ‘Tasha and apology. What do you say?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt ‘Tasha,” the little boy mumbled.

“That’s okay, Win. I’m upset Daddy had to be an Avenger today, too,” said Romanoff.

The little boy turned back to his father, “Wasn’t Captain America at the same time as Howard?” 

It surprised Steve to hear him call Howard by his name. But Stark answered. “He got frozen, and the serum in his blood kept him alive.”

“Chemistry,” said the child, “wow.”

“Totally wow. Captain, this is my son Edwin. Win, this is Steve.”

“Everyone calls me Win because Edwin is just too big of a name for a little boy.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Win.”

“You too, Steve.” The little boy shook his hand, formally. 

Then Romanoff smiled at Win and said, “And I brought my friend Clint, I’ve told you all about him.”

“He’s an archer,” agreed the boy. He smiled at the man. “You’re cool.”

Barton smiled, “I’ve heard a million fun stories about you, Win.”

“That’s ’cause I’m fun,” agreed Win.

“And so modest,” said Barton, and Win just smiled.

“And you remember Thor, the Norse god in the storybook?” Stark asked and the little boy nodded. “Well, it turns out that the stories were based on an alien. An actual, real, and really nice alien.” He turned the little boy and said, “This is Thor. Thor, this is my son, Win.”

“What a magnificent name,” Thor’s voice boomed. 

“You look just like the picture book.”

“How nice to know they have my likeness.”

“How old are you ’cause the Norses are all gone, right?”

“I am over a thousand years old by your calendar.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” said Win staring at him.

“I know, right?” said Tony with a smile as his son turned back to him. “There are some perks to meeting the Avengers. We have a demigod, a living legend and Aunt ‘Tasha’s best friend in our house. So cool, right?” asked Stark, and the little boy nodded, with a bright grin. Steve felt awkward and saw that Banner was curling in on himself, embarrassed at being forgotten when he was in the room. He was by the door, and the boy hadn’t noticed him. Then Tony continued, “Now, cream of the crop, top of the top. I met someone else today,” he spun the little boy, positioning him to be looking directly at Banner, who stood up a little straighter. The boy’s mouth comically fell open.

“Really?” asked Win.

“Really,” agreed Tony.

“Really really?”

“All the reallies.”

Banner smiled, “Hi, I’m-”

“Dr. Bruce Banner,” the little boy interrupted. “Imma be a fist-ist when I grow up.”

“You wanna be a physicist?” asked Banner, there was incredulity in his voice as though he were waiting on the punchline. 

The boy nodded enthusiastically, “Just like you.”

“Really?” asked Banner. 

“I told you, Bruce, we don’t joke about Dr. Bruce Banner in this house,” Stark was smiling at him, a gentle, warm smile. 

“I wanna be just like you, except for the Hulk, that’s scary. Is he gonna come out? ‘Cause that’s scary.”

“No, Win, I’ve been testing Bruce all day, poking him and surprising him. He’s got Hulk in control. He’s safe.” Banner still looked shocked, and Stark was always smiling, “Ever since he grew out of wanting to be a racecar driver, he’s wanted to be a physicist.”

“Why?” asked Bruce.

“‘Cause I’d ask how stuff worked and Daddy would explain mechanics and fistics,” explained the boy, “and I liked it and we read the papers. And Daddy explained the papers, and you wrote all the good ones.”

“He has a poster of your headshot,” said Stark, and Win nodded enthusiastically. 

“Wow, I’ve never had a fan before, that’s so cool,” said Banner, smiling happily. 

From behind the little boy, Stark mouthed one word at Banner, “Friends.”

Banner said, “Daddy invited me to play with him in the lab, can you and I be friends?” 

Win’s mouth gapped again, “Y’wanna be friends with me?”

“Yeah,” Banner nodded. 

“Daddy, Dr. Bruce Banner wants to be my friend.”

“I heard, so cool,” agreed Tony. 

“If we’re gonna be friends, you gotta call me Bruce.”

“Wow, ‘kay, Bruce.”

Stark beamed at the room, “Great, now that everyone has met, we need some painkillers, some sparkle water and sandwiches.”

“Are you hurt?” asked Win, face scrunching. 

“No, baby, everyone is just sore.”

“Only safe Iron Manning.”

“I was not dangerously Iron Manning. I’m just sore. Your friend Bruce had to hulk-out, and it looked rough.”

“All of my muscles and bones have to shift. Shrinking down hurts more,” explained Banner.

“How does it work with the comprehension of math?” asked Win.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Banner.

“Conservation of mass,” said Tony. “Hulk makes no sense.” 

“Ah,” said Banner. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to study it. I had to go away after I got Hulk, so I’ve never been in a lab. Maybe you can help me figure out how Hulk works.”

“Wow,” repeated Win. “We’re gonna science together.”

Stark pulled a giant medical kit out of a cupboard and started pulling out drugs. “Over-the-counter stuff, Percocet, codeine, oxycodone, Vicodin, methadone, fentanyl, and good ol’ liquid morphine. And then we just have some mood drugs if anyone needs help with the stress: Xanax, Klonopin, Valium and Ativan.”

“Seriously?” asked Romanoff. 

“Do you run a pharmacy on the side?” asked Barton.

“No, just boo-boos from Iron Manning and some PTSD. The Percocet is leftover from last Christmas; I put my back out with the tree.”

“It was hilarious,” said Win. 

“It was not,” Stark protested. 

“Tony, you hobbled around for two days with a cane,” said Romanoff, “It was hilarious.”

“You made fun of me when I was in so much pain.” Stark took a handful of pills for himself and got a pitcher of water and glasses. He poured himself a glass of water and gulped the pills down before pouring some into a plastic cup with a lid and held it out to the little boy, “Sparkle water.”

“What makes it sparkle water? Is that a Midgardian delicacy?” asked Thor. 

“No, it’s just water I put through the soda press for bubbles. Win likes mineral water, but that has so many things that aren’t good for kids, so I just make it.” He scooped the little boy up, kissing his neck with loud squeaky noises.

“Daddy!” the boy shrieked, “squeaky kisses tickle!”

“I know; that’s why I do it. How was your day with Aunt Share?”

“We went swimming this morning, but then there were bad guys in midtown, so we hung out inside, not in the glass room. We played hide an’ seek, did some coloring and a puzzle.”

“Sounds pretty good, why didn’t you wake up Aunt Share when you had a nightmare?”

“She’s snoring. She only snores when she’s really asleep.”

“She wouldn’t have minded,” said Stark. Pulling things from the fridge, many different cheeses, he said, “Everyone slap together sandwiches, and I’ll just keep cooking until we’re done.”

“Tones, sit down, you’re exhausted,” said Romanoff.

Stark nodded and said, “American for Win and me… I would like two.”

“I’m using the weekend morning skillet… did you bring the weekend morning skillet from Malibu?”

“I wanna go home!” Win said, and Stark shot her a dirty look.

“I bought a new one. It’s in the cupboard next to the oven,” he said. Then he said, “Win, if — after two months in Edwin Tower — you’re still not happy, we’ll move back to Malibu. It’s still our house, it’s still all normal. But it’s really easy to have sleepovers with your friends here, and Nanny Peggy has a much easier time visiting. And there are good schools here too. That’ll matter next year. Those are big perks.”

“Peggy?” repeated Steve feeling shocked and suddenly so much more hopeful. “Peggy Carter?”

“Peggy Sousa, now, she married a wonderful man.”

“She’s alive,” said Steve, stunned.

“No one told you?” asked Stark with a horrified expression, “She’s alive. She’s elderly but still awesome.”

“Nanny is the best, and Aunt Share is gonna bring her for weekend breakfast!” said Win. 

Stark was cuddling the boy close. The man looked exhausted and drawn, regardless of what he said, he had been dead only two hours before. He sipped his water as Romanoff buttered a giant pan that sat on all the stove’s burners. “There’s coffee, beer, milk, juice: help yourselves. I think Pep left an open bottle of wine in the fridge.”

“Daddy, why do you only drink champagne at parties? Everyone drinks beer and wine.”

“Well, Win, Howard used to drink a lot of those drinks, and he was very mean when he drank them, and I used to drink too much of them. So, when I was going to become a daddy, I gave up drinking to make sure that your childhood would in no way resemble mine.” Natasha poured out a glass of milk. Stark had said he wanted milk when they’d peeled him out of the suit.

“Does it?” asked Win as Natasha handed Stark the glass. 

“Thanks, ‘Tasha. Win, you look just like me and my father was an engineer too. But outside of that… we both love Peggy. That’s it… I had Grandad Edwin, and you have JARVIS.” 

“I’m pleased to be a pale stand-in for Mr. Jarvis,” said the disembodied voice, making Steve jump.

“What is that?” asked Steve.

“That’s JARVIS. He’s a computer program, plumbed into the house. He’s not as integrated as he is in our other house or Edwin Tower.” 

“He couldn’t turn on the lights for me, and I can’t reach it,” said Win grumpily. 

“Your tower got a little banged up by the bad guy. It might be a couple more weeks before we can move in.” The little boy looked at him, a sulking pout on his face. “You still have a sleepover tomorrow with Hank and Kitty. They’ll just come here instead of your tower.”

Steve thought of his interactions with Stark. He’d insulted the tower, never questioning why it was called Edwin Tower. Hearing the man refer to it as his son’s tower changed the meaning of it. He’d judged Stark as a cowardly, lazy man. Here he was, after dying to save the city, trying to comfort his son, who didn’t want him to be an Avenger. 

“Were you brave today, Daddy?” asked Win.

“Nope, I only did what was absolutely necessary. I did a little biffing, a little science, fixed an engine, a little more biffing and then I pushed an explosive into a hole. Easy as pie. That was all I did. Right, Aunt ‘Tasha?” 

“Your dad didn’t do anything superfluously brave or dangerous. He only did exactly what he had to do, no more,” said Natasha.

“Gotta be safe,” said Win, poking Stark in the cheek, “No Magneto.”

“I promise you,” said Tony, “I will avoid Magneto every moment of every day of my life.” 

Barton moved behind the island to help Romanoff and then almost slipped on something. Lifting a teddy bear, he said, “Is this the Iron Bear I heard about?”

“The Iron Teddy,” corrected Win.

“He’s nice,” said Barton.

“He’s a good teddy,” agreed Win. “Aunt Share sewed him armor just like Daddy’s.” 

“Win’s Aunt Share is Agent Thirteen,” said Romanoff. 

Barton smiled, “I like her; she’s so nice and incredibly competent.” He brought the bear to Win, who hugged it to his chest.

“Pretty too,” added the boy with a grin.

“Yes,” agreed Barton, “she’s a very good looking woman.”

“She painted my nails,” said Win, showing off dark red polish that Steve hadn’t noticed before. “It’s always fun when she comes to babysit.”

“Pretty. It’s darker than she usually likes,” said Stark. Steve was surprised that he was okay with it, but maybe that was just the future. The future was still very foreign to him. Perhaps it was normal for men to paint their nails now. 

“Her assignment is to make friends with an old guy,” said Win, looking at his nails. “It’s supposed to make him think of the old days.”

“It looks like something you Nanny would have worn, back in the old days,” said Steve, suddenly melancholy. 

“She did my toes too.” He pulled off tiny slippers to show off mint green toenails. “She didn’t have glitter. But I still like them.” 

“Very nice,” said Stark.

“Daddy, can I sleep in your bed?”

“Of course, baby,” said Tony.

Romanoff handed off grilled cheese sandwiches. Win’s was cut into four triangles. “I want my sandwish cut into squares,” Win said sulkily. Behind him, Stark rolled his eyes.

But aloud, the man spoke in a cheerful voice, “Okay, can someone hand me a knife, please?” Thor handed him one, and Stark cut his own into squares, “Thank you, Thor. There, baby, that’s better.” 

“Thank you, Daddy.” Everyone fell quiet, sitting at the table and on the counters, exhausted from the battle. 

The little boy fell asleep halfway through his sandwich, and Stark spoke at a normal volume as he said, “All the fucking time, he’s got to have his way over the tiniest thing. He’s so bossy ever since we got to this house. It’s driving me insane. We’ve always been buddies on the same team, and now he’s fighting me on everything, and it’s exhausting. And when I try to put him in charge of his decisions in the first place he just cries and gets overwhelmed. He doesn’t want to make choices, just argue with mine. Even the way his fucking sandwich is cut. If you had asked him what shape he wanted his sandwich he would have cried but the one he was handed was incorrect. I’ve gone from having an awesome best friend to living with to having an angry, sulking tyrant. And I get that today was rough on him because he knew I was with the Avengers, but it’s not just today. I spent two hours on the phone with my psychiatrist about it.”

“What does she say?” asked Romanoff. 

Stark ate the other half of Win’s sandwich. “That it’s stress, that he’s trying to control something when he’s in a bizarre situation, that he is going through the terrible twos two years late. She says I should indulge him when possible so that he feels like he has power over his life but put my foot down when it’s important and not alter big things for his whims because having a parent in charge is actually comforting. And, she says, I need parent friends because I paid her six hundred dollars to talk about parent problems instead of my mental health. But Logan is the only parent friend I have and he was busy… I need my friends to start breeding.” He sighed and said, “I might be a bad dad, though, if he’d been sleeping when we got back, I might have gotten him out of bed. I needed a cuddle.” He curled around the boy, breathing his hair, clearly enjoying his presence. “Not a word about the Iron Teddy’s bathing routine. I don’t care if you’re superheroes: I will murder you.” He took another deep breath of his son’s hair before he stood, shifting the boy to his hip, and made a peanut butter and jelly one-handed. “Anyone want a PB&J?”

They went through another five rounds of sandwiches, Stark kept the little boy close to his chest the whole time, and Banner said, “I hurt everywhere.”

“Me too, I gotta pass out. Anyone else want to go to bed?” 

They all went upstairs, and Stark said, “Pick any bedroom except,” he pointed at three doors, “that’s Sharon, Win and me. There’re ensuite bathrooms with clean towels and toiletries in all of them.” He went into his bedroom without another word, three-quarters asleep already. 

Romanoff watched the door for a moment before walking past, “Nat,” said Barton.

“I promised Win two years ago that Tony wouldn’t be in the Avengers. He died today; I’m allowed to feel guilty. Tony does dictators and terrorists with guns not supervillains. He’s not as trained as we are. He wears armor because his weapons are best and can beat any other weapons hands down. He’s the best at what he does. This isn’t what he does.”

“Nat, none of us have aliens in our wheelhouse,” Barton said. 

“He’s a single dad inside a metal can. He hasn’t really ‘superheroed’ since Win was born. He’s out of practice and the mindset.” said Romanoff, “He was the least suited for it. When I wrote that report, I promised he would never be out there like that.” She sighed. “Goodnight,” she went into the next bedroom. 

Barton, Thor, Banner and he all went into the bedrooms next to them, too tired to venture down the long hall. The minute his head his the pillow, Steve was out.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up early, Bruce still hurt everywhere. He thought longingly of all the painkillers in the kitchen. He got up slowly and showered in pain, trying to loosen his muscles. It was early, and everyone had seen him naked the day before. With his bag still on the helicarrier, he had no clothes, but the bathroom had a fluffy, soft robe that he slipped into before heading out for drugs. 

His biggest fan was sitting in front of his dad’s room with his teddy bear and a book. He was reading it aloud to his teddy bear. It seemed very complicated for a child of his age. 

“Hey, Win.” 

The little boy looked up at him and grinned, so brightly it almost broke Bruce’s heart, “Hi, Bruce.”

“What are you doing?”

“I tried to wake Daddy, but he said ten more minutes. JARVIS is keeping track for me.”

That made Bruce smile, “Would you like me to make you breakfast?”

“In Spotlight on Young Fist-ists you said your favorite breakfast was banana pancakes.” Bruce vaguely remembered it, a lifetime ago. “Daddy makes them for me.”

“I can make those,” Bruce said. Win stood and held out a hand to Bruce, who took it in his own.

“We’re friends,” said the little boy, skipping next to him. 

“Yes, we are.”

“I’m glad. You gonna be a science bro with us?”

Bruce remembered Tony mentioning his gang comprised of “science bros.”

“Who are the science bros?” asked Bruce, suddenly curious. He’d thought Tony was talking about his R&D scientists or possibly Elon Musk, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Peter Higgs, Richard Dawkins and Brian Cox. 

“Me, and Daddy, and my friend Hank, and Daddy’s intern, Peter, and Uncle Rhodey, and JARVIS and maybe you.”

“I would love to be a science bro,” said Bruce, smiling, thinking of Tony trying to sell him on the concept of the gang yesterday. “Who is Uncle Rhodey?”

“He’s Daddy’s friend from college. He’s an aerospace engineer, and he’s a cornall.”

“A colonel?” asked Bruce.

“Yeah. He’s The Machine. Daddy says he’s my godlessfather.”

Far away, in a now-forgotten country, while lying low, Bruce had heard of a superhero with an Iron Man suit called The Machine. The term godlessfather made him smile. “He sounds nice.”

“He’s the best,” agreed Win. Then he added, “Well, he’s tied: he and Uncle Happy are the best uncles in the whole world. But Uncle Happy isn’t a scientist.” In the kitchen, Bruce wiped off the giant skillet. He was too tired to clean it. “Can I help, please?”

“Sure, how do you help Daddy?”

“Stirring and company,” said the little boy, firmly. 

“That sounds great,” said Bruce. The kid was so cute, and Bruce smiled at him. Bruce wondered how much of his warm feelings were actually caused by the boy’s adoration of him.

It had been a very, very long time since people had been so kind to him knowing that he had the Hulk inside of him. SHIELD had built a brutal cell for him. They had lured him back to America, promising that it was just about science. And then there was Tony, playing with him, making jokes and teasing him about the Hulk without any malice or fear. It was the first time someone in the western world had treated him like a person first and the Hulk second.

“JARVIS, please play the breakfast cooking playlist.”

“Of course, Master Win,” said the computer. 

“Thank you, JARVIS,” said Win as Good Morning from Singing in the Rain started playing. “Bruce, can I have sparkle water, please?”

“Of course,” Bruce took a sippy cup from the cupboard. It was pink. “Is this cup okay?”

“I want green,” said Win. The music stopped, and Win added, “Please.” The music started again as JARVIS had clearly paused it to remind Win of his manners. “Do you like coffee, Bruce? JARVIS can make the machine make you anything.”

Bruce liked tea more than coffee, but he appreciated the gesture and said, “That would be great. JARVIS, may I please have a very light latte?”

“Would you prefer tea, Dr. Banner? You’ve spent so much time in the East.”

“Oh, thank you, JARVIS. Do you have the ability to make chai tea with milk?”

“I can, or I can make you a masala chai?”

“That would be perfect actually, yes, please.” He gathered things he needed as the tea brewed, and he handed Win his cup. He swallowed a pill with a sip of sparkling water. He moved to make the pancakes by memory, having Win stir things whenever possible. The tea tasted perfect. It was comforting after the shock of returning to New York. He took a breath and said, “JARVIS, that’s delicious, thank you. I’ve been out of the country for longer than Win’s been alive. Has Tony commercialized AI yet?”

“No, his helper robots and I remain the top AI in the world, and he would never commercialize us. He calls his helpers his simpleton triplets, and he modeled me on the man he considered to be his dad. We are not for the world; we’re his.”

“I love you, J,” said Tony as he walked in. The man looked disheveled, and a faint light shone through his shirt. Bruce had thought only the suit had an arc reactor, but now he realized there was one in his body. He knew the man had been injured in Afghanistan, tortured, but he hadn’t understood how badly. He wondered what it powered. 

“I love you too, sir.” The coffee machine started whirling, and the music started up again as Tony came to cuddle Win.

“Bruce, are you responsible for me getting over twenty extra minutes of sleep and a twenty-minute shower?” asked Tony, smiling. 

Pouring the batter, Bruce said, “Win told me that you guys like banana pancakes because I like banana pancakes. I smoosh the bananas, which Win says is different from yours. So, we’re doing a taste test.”

“Awesome. An experiment before eight AM. Thank you, Bruce. I love it when I get to sleep longer, and someone makes food.” He gently squeezed Bruce’s arm as he got his coffee. “I know how Win slept, but how did you sleep?”

“It was the nicest bed I have slept in in years.”

“As long as I have a roof over my head, you have one over yours,” said Tony, swallowing a pain pill with his coffee. “Drugs?” he offered, politely. 

“I took an oxycodone, thanks,” said Bruce.

“Daddy, Bruce says he’ll be our science bro.”

“Well, how ‘bout that?” He smiled at Win, and there was so much love in his eyes. Bruce had to look away, it hurt to see such happiness. His life had lacked that form of love. “If you’re in the fraternal order of the science bros, that makes you doubly welcome.”

“You called it a gang.”

Tony gave him a small smile and a nod. “We should get motorcycle jackets, and then, next time Rhodey, Hank and Peter come, we could decorate them together. I’ll get fabric paint,” said Tony. “You’ll like Rhodey, Peter and Hank. Hank is six and a half. It’s an amazing gang: we should have jackets. We science together.”

The three of them ate the pancakes, and Win turned to Tony, “Daddy, these are better than yours.”

“Wow,” Tony blinked at him. “Y’think so?” The little boy nodded, and Tony said, “Bruce, this is the first time anyone has beaten me in a taste test.”

“I think the deck might be stacked,” said Bruce, smiling and looking at his plate. It had been so damn long since he had gotten any form of a compliment that it threw him a little. 

“They’re delicious,” said Tony. 

“He didn’t even use the pancake box. He made it all.”

“Wow, I’ve never not used Bisquick, that’s why they’re so much better. Thank you, Bruce.”

“Well, I gotta feed my bros, right?” 

Tony grinned. His smiles were nothing like the one he did for the cameras. “I like your robe. If it’s a fashion statement, I applaud you. If it’s that you left your bag on the Helicarrier and the clothes you were wearing by the end of yesterday were just found clothing, you can borrow any of my stuff. It’s clean, and it’ll fit you; we’re about the same height.”

“Thanks, after breakfast I’ll take you up on that.”

“I can help ‘Tasha and Clint out too, but Thor and Cap are out of luck.”

“They’re giants,” said Win. 

“An alien and a super soldier,” said Tony, “they are huge. I don’t have clothes that are going to fit them.” He smiled, conspiratorially at his son. “Giants,” he agreed. 

“Aunt ‘Tasha wears your clothes, and she’s short.”

“Aunt ‘Tasha likes that my sweats have pockets.”

“The fashion industry is misogynistic,” said Natasha, walking in, wearing an MIT sweatshirt and sweats with the band rolled. “J, may I please have an espresso with a skim of milk?”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff.”

“Would you like pancakes?” offered Bruce.

Natasha looked at him with mock shock, “Dr. Bruce Banner is making banana pancakes?” He nodded. “In this house, that’s the equivalent of Jesus turning up and serving communion. And I would love to have some pancakes.” 

Bruce chuckled, it was funny to hear that people hadn’t known had thought so much about his preference for pancakes. “What should we call one another? It’s all been hectic. If we’re going to be a team, I feel like ‘Agent Romanoff’ and ‘Dr. Banner’ is very formal.”

“I respond to any variation of Natasha. If we’re speaking in Russian, I prefer Natalia, but it sounds weird when mixed into English.”

“Aunt ‘Tasha, do you dream in Russian or English?” asked Win. 

“It’s a mix.” She scooped the Advil off the counter.

“That’s what you’re taking?” asked Tony, sounding shocked.

“Well, Bruce’s whole body went through a transformation, and you’re semiretired; I’m used to fistfights that last all day. I’m just sore.”

It struck Bruce as odd. She was physically a normal woman. But her training, conditioning, made her so much more than him. The strength of her was intimidating. Bruce could never hope to match it. Only as Hulk could he find a place amongst the superheroes. She moved around the kitchen with ease, clearly comfortable in the space, pouring herself some grapefruit juice from the fridge. “Are we out of yogurt?” The normalcy of the question shocked Bruce. 

“We are, we had it yesterday for breakfast, and I’m guessing with everything that happened yesterday, the personal shopper didn’t make it to the store.”

“He did not, but he did text with his apologies and a lot of exclamation points, Sir,” said JARVIS. “I told him to take care of himself and his family and said that we would be fine and to let us know when he would be ready to come back. He was actually in midtown when things kicked off, so I think he was a bit traumatized. We’ll be ordering quite a lot of take out.”

Bruce smiled, “I like that you say ‘we.’”

“I don’t eat, but I am a member of this household,” said JARVIS.

Bruce paused, “I didn’t mean to offend you; I meant it as a compliment.”

“I know, Dr. Banner, I am not offended. I’m pleased to have you here. We’re all new to living in this house, and it’s always nice to meet new people.”

“Can’t be home without JARVIS,” said Win with a nod, agreeing with his own words. 

A woman with blond hair in a messy bun came in and said, “Morning.”

“Hey, Sharon,” said Natasha, “meet Bruce.”

“Dr. Bruce Banner, are you making banana pancakes?” she said with a huge smile. 

“I am, Sharon, it’s so nice to meet you,” said Bruce, reaching over the island to shake her hand. “Pancakes?”

“I would love pancakes, thank you. JARVIS, may I please have a lemon tea?” She stretched as she spoke. 

“Of course, for you, Miss Sharon,” said the computer.

Hearing him use Sharon’s first name, Bruce said, “JARVIS, you can call me Bruce.”

“Dr. Banner, I have known Miss Sharon since she was thirteen. As a child, my program informed me that she was to be designated as either Miss Carter or any variation of her choosing; I asked her, and she told me her name was Sharon. I am meeting you as an adult. My algorithm tells me you are Dr. Banner. Without Sir altering my code, you shall remain Dr. Banner. Sir does not alter my code unless it’s for a bug or expansion. This is not a bug. If you wouldn’t try to change someone’s eye color, you should not try to change me.”

“J, you’re beautiful,” said Tony. “You grew up so nicely.”

“Thank you, Sir, the last thirteen years have been an experience.”

Bruce handed over a plate of pancakes to Sharon. “You’re incredible, JARVIS. That’s amazing. How big are you?”

“Thirty petaflops and 800 terabytes of memory.”

“Wow, you’re amazing,” said Bruce. He could not imagine the time, energy and genius it had taken Tony to build the program. 

As he marveled, Steve walked in in his uniform, minus the cowl. Sharon clearly faltered, almost dropping the plate. Steve stopped in the doorway, “Hi, neighbor.” She breathed in, slowly, clearly attempting to fortify herself. “Aunt Share, I’m guessing. Last night Win told us that your shade of nail polish was to help ingratiate yourself to an old man.” He paused, “Is it the same brand Peggy wore?”

“Exact same shade,” confirmed Sharon. “I asked Aunt Peggy.”

“Aunt Peggy?” he repeated. 

“I’m Sharon Carter,” she said. 

“Not Kate, the nurse in the infectious disease unit who just happens to live across the hall?”

“Nope,” agreed Sharon.

“Share, are you telling me that SHIELD is wasting your talent on shadowing Captain America?”

The woman grimaced, and Natasha said, “My talents were wasted on shadowing you as your PA Natalie.”

“Was that when you stayed with us?” asked Win. Natasha nodded, and he said, “That was fun.”

“That was when I wrote my report on Daddy,” said Natasha. 

Tony said, “Share, why didn’t you just burn yourself, like ‘Tasha did?”

“Well, for one, no one believes Natasha’s report on you, and, because of that, she got bad assignments for about a year. For another… I can understand why SHIELD wanted to keep someone close by to the super-soldier who was sent to the future in a frozen time machine… I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Would you have ever burned yourself?” he asked. His jaw ticked with anger.

“No,” said Sharon. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded slowly, mulling her words over. He sounded defeated as he spoke. “Could you not tell Fury you’ve been burned and teach me how Google works?”

“Sure, offer to let me use your washing machine again. And when I report back, I will say that you asked me about Google, and I won’t give a word of the details.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I want to see Peggy.”

She nodded, “Tell Fury that Tones said she’s alive. As far as you’re concerned, I am Kate.”

“Is my apartment bugged?” He sounded so guarded. It must have been yet another insult to injury to find out that he was not only in the wrong time but that his life was not wholly his own. Bruce understood that, having lived in fear of surveillance and with feelings of helplessness for years. Tony had assured him it was over, but he wouldn’t feel safe for a long time if ever. 

“No, we’re not at quite that level of creepy.”

“Did you know that my mother was a nurse in the infectious disease unit and that it led to her death?” She nodded. “Are you absolutely sure my apartment hasn’t been bugged?”

“Sharon is one of the best operatives we have at placing bugs. If your place had been tapped, she would have been the person charged with doing it,” said Natasha. 

“Your apartment is clean,” said Sharon.

“What’s bugging? Do y’put ants in people’s house?” asked Win. 

Sharon paused, probably wondering how to explain it simply. “Imagine, Master Win,” said JARVIS, “That you lived in a house and you thought you were by yourself but instead I lived there too. And you didn’t know I was there and then I told someone else what you were doing and saying. That’s what bugging means. Aunt Share puts a system like me into houses but only for bad guys. She would never bug someone like Captain America. Captain America isn’t a bad guy.”

Win nodded, “Okay, Bruce, can I have another pancake, please?” Then he said, “Steve, Bruce makes even better pancakes than Daddy and Daddy makes the best pancakes in the universe.”

Tony nodded mock-serious, “My secret is Bisquick.”

“At least there’s one thing that’s familiar,” said Steve, he gave a sad huff of a laugh. “Bisquick made good pancakes back in my day too.”

“Bruce makes them from scratch,” said Tony.

Bruce put a small one on Win’s plate and six large pancakes on a plate for Steve. “Breakfast,” said Bruce. 

After a while of subdued awkwardness, Natasha said, “Clint and Thor need to get up. We should go to Headquarters. Tony, you should come with us, give your report. I know you don’t want to, but it might get Fury off your back.”

“Fine, if you think it will help, for you, ‘Tasha, I will. I will consult.” Tony smiled at him and said, “Bruce, you want clothes?”

“That would be great,” agreed Bruce. 

“Sorry, I don’t have anything in your size, Steve. You could borrow maybe a sweatshirt?”

“I’m fine,” said the man, “I showered, thank you for that: amazing shower. I’ve worn my uniform dirtier than this. I’ve missed this house.”

“Daddy doesn’t like this house because it makes him sad,” said Edwin. “I don’t like it ‘cause it’s old, and it makes weird noises when it settles.” 

“Don’t worry, honey, soon we will be at the Tower where I’m very happy, and it doesn’t creak because it’s all glass and metal and beautiful.”

“It’s got my name on it. It’s my beautiful tower.”

“The bad guy knocked the letters off, but I’ll fix it. I’m gonna find Bruce clothes.” He kissed the top of Win’s head. He smiled at Bruce and said, “Let’s go closet shopping.”

Bruce smiled, “Honestly, Tony, anything you can spare would be great.”

“I have a huge closet, Bruce, we can get you an outfit you like.” On the stairs, he said softly, “That was brutally awkward. And we left Win to sit in the miasma of tension.” Bruce chuckled. 

Tony opened the door, and Bruce saw a big photo over the bed of Tony smiling at a baby. The baby had a grin and was touching Tony’s cheek. It was beautifully lit. “Is that you and Win?”

“Yeah,” Tony smiled at the photo, “I hate paparazzi taking pictures of him, but I love professional photos of him. I get a photographer in a couple of times a year. That was his six-month shoot.” He threw open two sets of French doors. 

“You have a lot of clothes,” said Bruce.

“This is about a third of my clothes; the rest are ready to ship from Malibu.”

Bruce started looking through the shirts and then said, “May I ask you a very personal question?”

“Shoot,” said Tony. 

“Where’s Win’s mom?” There was no hint of a mother anywhere in their house or lives.

“Oh, he’s my miracle baby.” He smiled at Bruce. “Did you know that sex using two forms of protection still has a point oh oh six percent chance of pregnancy? My ex decided to keep the pregnancy but wasn’t a mother; she didn’t want her name on his birth certificate. I’m very grateful to her for keeping the pregnancy. She gave me the most amazing gift possible. I view it as surrogacy. I tell him that a very nice woman made him just for me. I have let the world believe it was surrogacy because she wanted no connection.”

“So you’ve been a single dad right from the start?” asked Bruce.

“Well,” Tony shrugged, “my close friends stepped up and took the mantle or aunt or uncle. When he was a newborn, Pepper, who was my assistant back then, would come over on the weekends and put him in the jogging stroller and go out for a long run just so I could shower and nap. She actually moved in for a couple of weeks when I was going crazy from sleep deprivation. But I have been single in the other sense: I have not gotten laid once. It’s only in the last three months that I’ve been able to get him out of my bed, and he gets back in at least three times a week… I like it: I get lonely in my bed now.”

“He’s a great kid. I’d heard you had a kid, but I didn’t think you’d be so hands-on.”

“You fled the country years before he was born, I didn’t expect you to brush up on the personal lives of famous scientists when you came back for a week to break Harlem.”

“Breaking Harlem wasn’t actually the goal of that trip,” said Bruce, taking a wine red, almost purple, shirt and black pants. “Can I borrow these, please?”

“I would love for a man as handsome as you to wear my clothes,” said Tony. 

Tony seemed to flirt a lot. Even his prodding on the helicarrier had felt like flirting. It must have just been Tony’s default behavior.

Clint popped his head in the door, “Can I borrow clothes? Nat said it would be cool.”

“Bruce is closet shopping right now, help yourself.”

The man was wearing a towel and said, “All I want is a black tank, black jeans and some socks.”

Tony moved to his dresser and pulled things out, asking, “Do you want boxers?”

“Eww, I’m not wearing another man’s boxers,” said Clint.

“It’s been through the wash,” Tony justified.

“Eww,” repeated Clint. 

“Fine, Bruce?” asked Tony.

“Sharing underwear is not the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done,” said Bruce, accepting a pair of boxers. 

“Socks?” asked Tony.

“I’m in flip-flops,” said Bruce. “I have extra shoes in my bag.”

“Your kid is cool,” said Clint. 

“I don’t get to take much credit,” said Tony. It seemed modest for Tony, but Bruce had been out of touch with the world and news of the man for nine years. Maybe becoming a dad had really mellowed him. 

With a shrug, Clint said, “I don’t know, but, hey, thanks for your work on the Avenger’s Initiative.” He seemed to scratch his ears, but instead, his fingers came out with tiny, flat things that looked like stickers and said, “These changed the whole game.” He put them back, “Thanks.” 

Tony smiled, “You’re who got my hearing aids? How are they? I never got feedback.”

“So, so much better than anything I’ve tried. I’ve had aids since the explosion when I was sixteen. I feel like I’m really, actually hearing for the first time since then. I love that they charge off my pulse. They are perfect when I have an earpiece with no interference, they don’t have the stigma my old ones did. People have a hard time taking a deaf assassin seriously. I’m viewed by outsiders as more competent and more of a threat when I’m not visibly damaged. So thanks… they do freak out around dog barks.”

“We can fix that. I never had someone to try them. If you want to hang around, we fix them together.”

“That would be great. Because sometimes guard dogs can be an issue.”

“Totally, we’ll fix that,” agreed Tony. “As they were experimental, I never could bring them to the market. But, if you and I can perfect them, I can bring them to the market and help more people. Don’t worry: I sell medical stuff for cost, so you’re not getting suckered into making me money.”

“Cool, that would be good,” agreed Clint. 

The scene reminded him of college, seeing people meeting and friendships growing quickly over minor things. Maybe the team could work, eventually. Bruce’s life had been a string of bad luck. But perhaps his luck was finally changing. 

“We might want to wait until Edwin Tower is fixed. Better labs. This one was last renovated twelve years ago.”

“Sure,” agreed Clint. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Sure,” said Tony, and then he paused and added, “are we on first names, yet?”

“I’m naked in your bedroom,” said Clint.

Tony nodded, “Then you’re welcome, Clint.”

Win hopped into the room and said, “Daddy! I brushed my teeth and got dressed by myself.” He was wearing a purple shirt with dolphins on it and a pink tutu.

“Nice, very color-coordinated,” observed Tony. “Good job on dressing yourself.”

“I love this tutu,” the little boy jumped up and down, making it bounce. “Bruce, is there fist-ics to explain why it bounces so fun?” He had a feeling that Win was going to find a way to turn everything into a physics question. 

“Let Bruce get dressed before answering physics questions, okay, honey?” asked Tony, and the little boy nodded. 

Bruce brought the clothes back to his room and changed quickly, adding the black belt Tony had handed him. He looked in the mirror and saw himself, normal, correct, not a vagabond, a respected scientist. If Ross was really powerless, Bruce could be this man every day. He could be a scientist again. He could have a real, permanent home. He could reclaim his spot in the world, in academia. He could be Dr. Bruce Banner again. He opened the door, and Win was waiting for him. Smiling at the little boy, he said, “Let’s talk about the physics of motion and why energy really just wants to do what it’s been doing.”

Win held out his hand, Bruce took it into his own and Win skipped as Bruce explained why his tutu was so awesome. Downstairs, Clint and Thor were using up the last of the pancake batter. Natasha said, “Look at you, Win.”

“Thank you for my tutu, Aunt ‘Tasha, I love it.” He jumped, making it all spring. 

“I’m so glad you like it. I saw it and thought, ‘That’s Win’s birthday present.’” 

“Best birthday present ever,” Win climbed onto a high stool and held Bruce’s hand as he jumped off. “Bruce says stuff in motion likes to keep moving because energy doesn’t just disappear, and that’s why it bounces. And it eventually stops moving when the energy it takes to bounce isn’t enough to fight the weight of the fabric and gravity. And that’s Newton’s first law.”

“Wow, Bruce, already teaching us stuff, neat,” said Sharon with a smile. 

“He said he’ll show me the math in the lab once they’re done with stupid Nick.”

“Math in the lab with Dr. Bruce Banner, wow,” said Sharon.

Win nodded enthusiastically. “So exciting,” he agreed. Bruce smiled at his excitement. 

Tony bustled in in an immaculate suit, and Steve said, “Hey, Tony, when did you add that beautiful greenhouse?”

Bruce thought it might be the most blatant overture of friendliness he had ever seen, but Tony seemed willing to accept it. Maybe it was to make up for yesterday, or maybe it was just that Steve wanted the team to work. 

“Well,” said Tony. “It’s sort of a funny story. Mr. Jarvis was seventy-four, and I was suggesting that he retire. Because, why was he still working at seventy-four? He kept putting me off. And then the AI JARVIS said the first really intuitive clever thing he had.”

“I simply pointed out that when Sir spoke about retiring, Mr. Jarvis’ pulse and temperature spiked. When alone, he had been asking me to research retirement homes in England; he spoke in a halting voice that I had cataloged as distress. He had read me dozens of books for my voice patterns. I told Sir that the topic distressed Mr. Jarvis.”

“First real analytic problem JARVIS ever solved,” Tony spoke with evident pride, but it sounded less like a programmer and more like a dad. “This house had been Mr. Jarvis’ home for almost fifty years. All of his family had died, he had no biological children. I hadn’t even thought of him moving out. The idea was absurd. Retirement didn’t mean he moved away. It just meant he didn’t get out of bed to cook my breakfast and force me to wake up. That man raised me, he was my dad, and it was time for him to take it easy. I planned a six-week world tour and told him it was my seventy-fifth birthday present to him and my twenty-first birthday present to myself. We traveled, and when we came home, there was a maid service, a personal chef, my brand new bodyguard and driver, Happy, my new assistant, Pepper, and a brand-new greenhouse. And I said, ‘You’ve always said you wanted to take more time to garden, so I’ve freed up your schedule.’ He joined book clubs, sewing circles, a club that did those weird English crossword puzzles and he grew so many vegetables in that greenhouse. His paycheck was still directly deposited into his account on the first and fifteenth of the month. For the last fourteen years of his life, he was a man of leisure. He still nagged and lectured me, of course, but that was never something he was paid for, just a bonus he threw in out of love. So, to answer your question, it’s been there since 1991. And the gardeners keep it nice and neat so that he would still be proud of it.” 

“It’s cool, there are green beans and radishes and tomatoes and raspberries and grapes and cucumbers in there. It’s pretty, but it smells weird,” said Win.

Tony smiled, “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. It smells like fertilizer, though.” Then he looked around and saw that Thor and Clint were done eating, and he said, “Okay, mister, where is my universe?”

“It’s under my skin!” said Win with a big smile. 

“That’s right, so keep it safe for me, right?”

“Right!” agreed Win.

“Gimme a kiss and a hug,” Tony held out his arms, and Win launched him off the stool to land in Tony’s arms. “I’ll be back in a few hours, okay?” Win nodded and kissed Tony. “Love you, Win.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” 

Tony smiled at Sharon and said, “Thank you, Share, I owe you. And, sorry for burning your ID.”

“That’s okay, maybe this will be better,” she said. “Have fun with the debrief.” 

“Sir, your bus is here.”

Tony kissed Win again and said, “Put your knees on my chest and push off as I let you down. We’ll get a huge bounce on your tutu.” Win did as told, and Tony swung him out, making the skirt go sailing. “Be good for your aunt, don’t jump off anything she says is too high.” 

He turned and led the way out. In the driveway, there was another party bus. Bruce would never have thought of it as a practical transportation system but, with their number, and Thor’s size, it really did make the most sense. 

Win ran out of the house, calling, “Wait, Daddy, wait.” 

Tony turned and crouched down, “What’s up?”

“No Iron Manning. Not even a little.” He poked Tony in the cheek as he spoke, aiming to drive the point home. “You’re too tired and sore.”

“No Iron Manning,” agreed Tony. “My main suit broken and in the hall. I promise: absolutely no Iron Manning.” He kissed Win, “Be home soon, baby.”

“Everyone should come back for dinner,” said Win. “Daddy makes the best dinners, and I’m having a sleepover.”

“We’ll see if they can, Win, but everyone is welcome,” he kissed Win again before turning to get on the bus. To the driver, he said, “Can you please turn off the music? I have a brutal headache.” He sat down heavily on one of the couches. 

“My friend, are you very weary?” asked Thor. 

“I think I hit my head harder than I thought,” he explained. “How is everyone else feeling?”

“Fine,” they all said, almost in unison. Except for Bruce, who said, “Like I’m bruised all over. But we’re the old guys on this team.”

“I am over a thousand years old,” said Thor.

Tony nodded, “Yeah, but how old are you in Asgardian years?”

“My biological age would correspond to twenty-four of your Midgardian years.”

“Wow, we’re so old,” said Bruce. 

“I’m thirty-three,” offered Clint.

“That doesn’t help,” said Tony.

“I’m ninety-two,” said Steve.

“No, you aren’t,” said Bruce. “Time travel doesn’t count.”

“I don’t get the future, that should count.”

“What don’t you get?” asked Tony. 

“In my day, little boys weren’t allowed to wear nail polish or tutus,” said Steve.

Tony blinked slowly, and Bruce thought he might be pissed, but he spoke evenly and more like a teacher than a father. “When you were a kid, pink was a boy’s color. And then it switched. Men in your day could hold hands and be openly affectionate with one another. Then fashion and acceptable behavior for little boys got more and more ‘masculine’ to the point where we got a culture of toxic masculinity. There were little boys dressed in camo and shirts that said ‘Daddy’s drinking buddy.’ Boys are told to be tough and rough. And it’s disgusting. So there was backlash, and people started being more open. And then people started talking about sexuality more, there were studies, so many studies, about sexuality. And they proved that you can’t make a kid gay, you can’t make a kid straight and liking a tutu and nail polish isn’t a definite sign of being gay. Gay is a kind word for homosexual now. Some stores took the labels off toys, stopped separating the toys by genders because kids are kids, and girls can be firemen, and boys can like baby dolls. We also decided, as a culture, that people who are gay aren’t bad. Some people would tell you that the way he dresses is a problem. Some people still think being gay is wrong. Those people can fuck themselves. Win can’t hit, bite or swear, but he can wear nail polish and a tutu because they make him happy, and he’s doing no one any harm.” 

“I thought that tutu was going to hold his attention for a day,” said Natasha.

“Nah, it’s gotta go through the wash at least twice a month; it’s in his daily rotation. It gets added over cloths or costumes: jeans and astronaut outfits. Thank you for not getting him one with glitter. That would have sucked.”

“I like you too much to ruin your carpets,” said Natasha. She patted his arm. “He has actual princess dresses, I didn’t think the tutu would get such high marks.”

“What if he is gay?” asked Steve.

Tony’s face went stony. “Well, as half the people I’ve dated have been men, I’d be a really odd person to be angry.” Steve looked shocked. And Tony turned to Bruce, “Have you seen Aleah Gale naked?”

“The chemist?” asked Bruce. Tony nodded, “No.”

“Something to write home about,” said Tony. “Have you seen Daniel Torrence naked?” 

“The biologist?” asked Bruce, Tony nodded again, “No.”

“That’s not something to write about: that’s a novel.”

Bruce laughed, “Do you always kiss and tell?”

Tony nodded, “Almost always. And I make no apologies. All four of the sex tapes of you can find of me on the internet were filmed without my knowledge… which is a shame because I would have played it up for the camera. I feel all is fair. I never put it on the internet. And I keep important relationships to myself. But, otherwise, I inform my friends and only positively. All I’m saying Bruce, is that some of our colleagues are really beautiful without their clothes on.”

“So is that what you look for? Just attractive scientists?” asked Steve, still appearing shocked.

“No, there’s a scale. If it’s a one-night thing, it’s just a hot person. If it’s a week, then it’s hot and smart. If it’s two weeks, it’s hot, smart and pleasant. If it’s more than that, it’s hot, smart, pleasant, funny and likes me. It’s not a hard formula, Steve, genitalia isn’t part of the equation. So, when Win introduces me to a boyfriend or a girlfriend, my only concern will be that they’re nice and kind to him. And that’s not everyone’s opinion here in the future, but I’d say it’s the greater majority of parents: we just want our kids to be happy and loved. It seems more likely that it’s gonna be a boyfriend. And, either way, if wearing a tutu and nail polish makes him happy, I don’t care.”

Bruce thought again of how much Tony flirted with him. He seemed to flirt more with Bruce than anyone else. Bruce was smart, pleasant enough and liked Tony. It was true that he wasn’t that funny, and years of hard living had left him looking haggard. But maybe three out of five plus Win liking him swayed Tony’s math. 

“Win’s a really nice kid,” said Clint.

“And that’s him being an asshole,” said Natasha. “When he’s angry, he says, ‘You hurt my feelings,’ not, ‘I’m angry at you.’ That’s aggressive and mean language for Win.”

Tony shook his head, “I’m seriously thinking of just going home. Edwin Tower will be amazing, but Malibu is home. We were supposed to move in today. And now it’s going to be weeks. Weeks of both of us being unhappy in that house.”

“Maybe you should go home for a while, wait until Edwin Tower is built,” said Natasha. “He knows Howard was mean. He knows you didn’t like your father. He knows that you were unhappy in that house. So take him to Malibu where it’s nothing but love, and the ocean and a beautiful lab. I’m sure he misses the robots.”

Steve looked away, brows furrowed. Bruce wondered what he thought, but he was more focused on what Tony’s childhood was like. Tony answered the unasked question by saying, “I fucked up. Win said he wanted my old bedroom, so I showed him mine, and he asked where all my toys were. And without thinking, I told him that Howard said I was too old for toys when I was six and took them all away. Win heard that and begged me that he be allowed to keep the Iron Teddy when he’s six. I told him I was never going to take away his toys that all of his toys belong to him and that his personal property is very important. But then he just kept asking why Howard would do that when it was my stuff. And how do you tell a little kid that your dad was an abusive drunk who beat the shit out of you for just existing? That the only way I could get any favorable reaction from him was to continually prove myself as an engineer when I was his age? That all the time he wasn’t leading an expedition looking for Steve, was split between being in his lab, smiling at cameras and kicking the shit out of me? That the only son he wanted was Steve and that nothing I could do would ever live up to a dead guy? So, I told him that Howard wanted me to focus on being an engineer. And he said he was gonna be a physicist and I said, ‘You’re gonna be whatever you want to be when you grow up. And you’re going to have all your toys, and you’re never going to have prove yourself because I know you’re amazing.’ He picked a different bedroom, and we set up his toy train, hung up Bruce’s picture and I made him a cake. I fucked up, ‘Tasha, some of his stress is on me.” 

“Tony,” said Steve softly. “I’m really sorry you didn’t know the man I knew. He was a showoff and a fool, but he was fun and honorable. And I’m sorry for how my legacy damaged your childhood.”

“You weren’t the problem, Steve, he was. It wasn’t just losing you, he built the world’s most brutal bomb after you went under. And instead of thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ He just obsessed over you and kept building weapons. He always said you were the one good thing he brought into this world. He never even put his own child into the same class as you. I built bad weapons too. And when I realized that, I stopped, became a philanthropist and put all my weight behind green energy and fixing my mistakes. Just like Dad, I believe I only brought one unambiguously good thing into the world, and he’s my baby. He doesn’t invent anything, nor does he want too. He has never fought Hydra. He is usually filthy. He rarely sits still and on his butt for a meal. He likes awful music. And, he’s the best damn thing I’ve ever had a hand in creating. The flaw wasn’t you or losing you; it was his failings as a father.”

“My father hated me for being smarter than him,” said Bruce. “He used to say he wanted to cut my head open to see my freakish brain. And he beat my mother to death in front of me. If that makes you feel better.”

“Jesus, Bruce, how could that make me feel better?” asked Tony.

“Bad dad club?” Bruce offered. He didn’t really know why he’d told them that. But he didn’t like Tony seeming so downhearted.

“My dad used to make my brother and I fight each other for sport. Killed himself and my mom driving drunk. The orphanage sucked, so we ran away and literally joined the circus.”

“I think Howard was drunk when he crashed too,” said Tony.

“The KGB murdered my parents, kidnapped me when I was five, and brainwashed me… I might have had a nice dad. I don’t remember,” said Natasha.

“If the All Father were a better man, we would not have had the trouble we had yesterday… my brother was always s a delicate soul. Finding out he was adopted and is a Frost Giant was his final breaking point.” Thor shrugged, the motion made the couch move. “Father never even attempted to love Loki. Loki saw a father. Father saw a weapon in the war against the Frost Giants.”

Steve shook his head. “I can't complain. I was a posthumous baby. My father died in the first war — mustard gas. I was told he was a kind man. My mother grieved for the rest of her life, but I never met him.” 

“So the happiest childhood we've got is a dead dad. Wow,” said Tony.

“The All Father was kind to me. But I did not like the way he treated my brother,” said Thor.

“That's possibly worse,” said Natasha.

Clint seemed to be thinking, “As long as we're caring and sharing, if you need a parent friend to talk to, Tony,” he shrugged. “My kid's terrible twos are worse than yours’.”

Tony smiled, “Really? It's cool to have a dad on the team. And Win always needs more friends.”

“That’s not happening,” said Clint. “Only Nat, Fury and Coulson know that my family exists and where they live, their names or what they look like. I'm an assassin, so I trust no one. I’m not telling you my kid’s name, but we can discuss stuff like what to do during tantrums and should you bribe them. I am a firm believer in bribing, my wife disagrees. Coulson was the first person who even knew about my girlfriend’s existence. No one else knew for four years that she even existed.”

Everyone fell silent, and then Natasha spoke softly. “Clint.”

Horrified, Clint said, “Nat, tell me I didn’t, some things are hazy, but tell me I didn’t. He recruited me, I’ve known him since I was nineteen, he was the best man at my wedding.”

“You didn't, but my brother did,” said Thor, speaking more softly than Bruce had thought him capable. “I am so sorry. For all the damage he has caused.”

“My brother would kill the pope for fifty bucks, no questions asked. And if Barney called me tomorrow, I would go rescue him, without hesitating. Brothers are brothers, his actions aren't yours to apologize for and you’re allowed to love him.” Clint sighed, “Who is telling Audrey?”

“They broke up,” said Tony. “She went home to Portland.”

“Yeah, they break up and make up twice a year,” said Clint, “she needs to know.”

“We'll talk to Fury,” Natasha assured him. 

Bruce thought and asked, “Thor, in human years, how old is Loki?”

“My baby brother is seventeen by your years.” 

“So a seventeen-year-old who recently found out that his abusive dad isn’t his real dad and isn't even the species he grew up identifying as threw a really large tantrum during his identity crisis yesterday.” Bruce sighed, “That’s actually quite sad.”

“Still killed Coulson and brainwashed me into murdering colleagues,” said Clint, coldly. “Age doesn’t excuse his actions.”

“I wasn’t saying it did,” Bruce assured him. “I’m just trying to understand those actions.”

They pulled up to a building, and Tony said, “End of the line, everyone out.”

“Government buildings freak me out now,” said Bruce. It was large and imposing while projecting an air of innocuousness. The fakeness made it even creepier. 

“Ross is powerless, and you’re safe,” Tony promised. Bruce didn’t fully believe him. It was possible he would never blindly trust anyone else ever again. They went into the building, and, at the desk, Tony said, “The Avengers and Consultant Tony Stark to see the Director.” Thor and Bruce were handed badges. “Yesterday, they saved the world. Today they need nametags?”

“Tones, let it go,” said Natasha with a sigh. 

“For you, ‘Tasha,” he agreed. “And only for you.”

Natasha and Clint led the way to a conference room, using palm scanners and iris scanners along the way. And, as they were fixing themselves coffee, Fury walked in. Steve started in on a “mission report” that was just an overly detailed recounting of events. He finished by saying, “There are an awful lot of questions left unanswered. But here’s one important thing going forward: I agree with Agent Romanoff’s original assessment of Mr. Stark. I know that there have been questions as to personal biases in the report. While I can certainly see why Mr. Stark’s friends like him as a person, I think he is a horrible fit, and I don’t want him on my team. As someone who has led large cohesive groups in the past, I standby Agent Romanoff’s impressions. He has proven that he is willing to lay down on the wire, but he is a single dad, and I’m not comfortable asking that of him when he doesn’t want to be on the team. Additionally, Mr. Stark is brash, and he doesn’t take orders. Having seen his tech, and met his computer, I would be thrilled to have him as a consultant and deep backbench back up, but having him in an active role is unacceptable. At least at this juncture.” 

“Thank you, Steve,” said Tony. “Now, let me do some consulting. We need some retooling. This isn’t a team. Bruce was right when he called it a time bomb. Everyone on this supposed team is a nice person, but none of you know each other. And yesterday we could pull together in the face of a huge threat in the shadow of Phil’s death, but that’s not going to work as a long term relationship. My four-year-old and his two best friends are more of a team. They care about each other, they listen, they work together and — when they have fights — they actually work it out and move on. They’re not nicer or more rational than the people in this room, they just know each other. Putting talented people who don’t know each other into dangerous situations and expecting it to work is stupid. Steve doesn’t know everyone’s skills except on paper, no one knows how to calm Hulk down. How much do you pay for your top agents’ good lodgings? How much do you pay for beautiful places with awesome facilities?”

“Twenty-five hundred a month,” said Fury without hesitation.

“Edwin Tower needs fixing. I talk about our ten floors of top labs without talking about the living quarters above them. I have enough room to give everyone here their own personalized floor, and then I have a beautiful two-floor penthouse that everyone is welcome to hang out in. There will be customized training facilities and tons of space for sparing and training. And you can write me a check as the landlord, whatever their board is too, please. It’s not that I care about the money — I’m a billionaire — it’s that you need to be responsible for this team. Then, when the battle comes, Steve will know that Thor always leans left from a punch or that he doesn’t need to waste time giving ‘Tasha directions in a certain situation. Clint will feel comfortable diving off a building knowing that either Thor or Hulk will catch him. Team building is stupid and tedious, but knowledge of one another, and caring about one another is incredibly important when asking people to trust one another with their lives and expect positive results. The real teamwork started in my kitchen when we skipped medical, and everyone helped patch each other up and took turns making sandwiches for one another.”

“The public needs more information about the Avengers maybe when you rebuild, this could add to publicity. You could change the name on the building to reflect that the Avengers make it their home,” said Fury.

Tony blinked slowly and said, “A few problems there. Steve called the building ugly, whereas my son brags about his beautiful tower. The tower’s name was chosen by the board of SI to show the future of the company and was voted on. My contract says I own the top floors as living space, but the company owns the building, and they picked its name. And I don’t like the idea of my child’s home having a bullseye painted on it. No one knows that the Four live at the Baxter Building unless you’re a superhero. X-Mansion is known because it’s a sanctuary, not for branding purposes. I don’t think we should publicize where the team lives. I’m not saying it’s a secret I’m just saying we don’t shout it. Edwin Tower can be their home, but it doesn’t belong to SHIELD, and its name isn’t changing.”

“I’m sorry I called it ugly,” said Steve. “I have problems with New York’s skyline; I’m not wholly okay with the future. The building is very modern, and it’s not a part of my New York.”

“I forgive you, sorry I called you a science experiment, but that brings us to another point,” Tony nodded. “Steve’s a man out of time, Bruce is a man who has been living in fear of his government, Clint got mind whammied, Thor is on a strange planet and I was dead. Everyone here could do with quite a lot of mental health help, and, I feel, SHIELD needs to be proactive and thorough on that. ‘Tasha was saying I should go home to Malibu to get over my trauma. I think I agree; I’m already writing a mental list of stuff I need to talk to my shrink about. Everyone needs therapy and you need to cover the bills for your people. They aren’t your agents, but they are your employees.” 

He took a deep breath, “Next up, weapons, SHIELD and bombs. When you turned the tesseract on, you invited Loki here. You made weapons that you spoke about needing for the threat. But what threat? Until now, we had one problem with Asgard and Bruce’s growing pains. How does that translate into needing weapons of that magnitude? You invite aggression when you create problems. Peggy had a nuclear option in her contract, it’s still there, I had JARVIS check while I was showering. The original purpose of SHIELD was to find Steve. If she feels SHIELD has overstepped boundaries, despite the government’s funding, she is allowed to shutter the entire operation. She has that power. You will not be handling any more alien artifacts. I spoke to the director of the DOD today. They and SI are setting up a joint initiative to clean up the city. I always talk to my kid about the importance of small businesses. We will be funding local wrecking crews, salvage companies and construction crews to clean up the damage and rebuild. We will be destroying all the remains. Yesterday was won with arrows and a man in a tin can. It was all engineering and hand to hand. We don’t need your weapons, we need to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands. It’s amazing what I can get done in the shower when Win isn’t interrupting me by climbing in and demanding I wash his already-clean hair. I had JARVIS run calculations on the bomb’s trajectory. Care to explain why a nuke that almost wiped New York off the map came from the Helicarrier? Because I was temporarily dead, and it wasn’t by Loki’s hand.” Fury looked pissed, and Tony said, “I will remind you that I’m not your employee; I’m a consultant. You don’t shout at me, and you say thank you when I’m done.”

Bruce marveled for a moment and wished he had that much self-confidence. “That’s classified,” said Fury.

“Bullshit,” said Tony. “I was dead, and I have government security clearance, and I’m a Level Nine SHIELD agent on paper. Bullshit. I want answers. There will be a press conference, and if you think that a nuke in the sky isn’t going to raise questions, you’re an idiot. I deserve to know, and so does everyone who almost died. You dropped a fucking a-bomb on us.”

“The World Security Council, my bosses, decided you weren’t enough. I tried to stop them.”

“Well then, Steve, as a consultant to the Avengers Initiative, let me give you some advice: burn them at the press conference. If an organization tried to bomb New York with the worst weapon my father ever had a hand in creating, you owe them no allegiance. So burn them. In a week, two, three, New York is going to be looking to blame this tragedy on someone. Before they vilify the Avengers before they say Thor is an alien threat and like his brother, you get out ahead of it: Aliens invaded the city. It was scary, but an amazing alien helped you fight them because aliens aren’t assholes, Loki is. You talk about the bravery. You introduce the Avengers so that they are familiar, known — heroes in light and not lurking in the shadows. Clint and ‘Tasha, I know you’re spies, but you’re also the only ones who actually signed on to the Initiative. You had to know this would happen eventually. Steve, you talk about the tragic loss of life. You remind them that you’re a boy from Brooklyn. And then you say, ‘The bomb that was dropped on the city was not from aliens. It was the World Security Council who didn’t put faith in people and our tenacity to win. A guy from Manhattan took care of it, though. We are in this together and, if there is another threat, we will do our best. We mourn together for the people who were killed, and it’s only as a city that we can heal.’ Boom, the Avengers are the good guys, and locals made good. Loki and the Security Council are the bad guys. Clear cut. We never bring up the fact that ‘Tasha is Russian.”

“That’s,” Steve started and then nodded, “really good. I’ve never been great at public speaking. I’ve had to do it a lot, but I get jumbled. Thanks.”

“I’m your consultant, and I’m great at public speaking. Speaking of consulting. Payment. Clint, ‘Tasha and Steve, you’re on the payroll, but what about hazard pay? Fury, what’s the deal? Thor and Bruce aren’t doing this pro-bono; they’re clearly at-will employees because you can’t contract superheroes, but how are you planning on compensating them? Is it per job? Retainer? You pulled Bruce out of his life, and you’re asking an alien prince to be on call. And, Thor, before you say anything about fighting for honor, keep in mind that money buys dinners with Jane and jeans to wear when you’re on Earth. Don’t refuse money for services rendered.” 

Fury opened a folder and said, “I actually have at-will contracts here as well as NDAs which — before you say anything about the dangers of swearing oaths to the government, Stark — is pretty easy to break it as a private citizen without security clearance. It also covers medical and living expenses.”

“Great,” said Tony, “And when did Clint and ‘Tasha renegotiate their contracts? Are they getting paid what they should? Clint signed his contract when he was a kid, and ‘Tasha had just left her country. Clint has been here fourteen years, and ‘Tasha has been here nine. They should be making bank. And did anyone objective look over Steve’s contract to make sure he’s getting paid correctly and not on a World War II scale?” Fury just looked at him. “I was asked to join the Avengers Initiative as a consultant. When it was a concept, I consulted on that. Now, there are people, and I am their consultant. You lie, you hide things and you act as the government. I’m here for the sake of transparency and to enable the Avengers to perform at their best. Money is part of that; another part is to trust each other before we trust a government agency. If you don’t like it, well, I’m their consultant so they can be the ones to fire me.”

“I’d like it if a businessman looked at my finances,” said Clint. Natasha and Steve both nodded. 

“Sure,” said Tony with a laid back smile. “We can all look at contracts tonight. As for my consultant fee,” he held out his hand to Fury, “I want fifteen bucks for the vending machine.”

“That’s what you want for your consultant fee,” said Bruce, unbelieving. 

“Bruce, I’m filthy rich. No amount of new money changes my lifestyle. No amount of money can help the fact that, yesterday, I flew into space, and it was so quiet. The suit shorted out, and JARVIS wasn’t there. I was all by myself. There was nothing. I haven’t been all by myself since I built DUM-E when I was twelve. And then I couldn’t breathe, and I thought I would never see my baby again, and then I woke up from being dead. No amount of money can compensate me for that. I am, however, hungry and want sugar and caffeine, and the vending machine outside had fresh apples, powdered doughnuts, peanut M&Ms and soda. I don’t have any cash, but fifteen bucks will solve my current problem.” He opened and closed his hand in the universal sign for “cough up.” Fury took out his wallet and handed Tony three five-dollar bills. 

“Thanks,” he said, “And finally, one last matter, and I think it’s the biggest to everyone at the table. After that, Steve can take back over. Who is telling Audrey about Phil?”

Fury was silent for a long time, long enough that it felt awkward, but Tony stared the man down. “Yesterday, you weren’t working together. All Phil ever wanted, from the moment we spoke about forming a government team that could function like the Fantastic Four or the X-Men, was for it to work. Six months ago, he decided to take part in Project TAHITI: Terrestrialized Alien Host Integrative Tissue I. He oversaw this Level Nine project. We harvested an alien corpse for medicinal purposes. Early lab studies were very successful. When medical got to Phil, he wasn’t brain dead yet. And so, per his orders and in accordance with his wishes, he is the first human patient for TAHITI. We’re stitching him back together. He believed it would be the closest we ever got to a super-soldier. Through a combination of medical expertise, new technology, alien blood and implanted memories, he should be back on his feet in five to six months, believing he recuperated from a massive injury in a place of pure luxury. He is currently in excruciating pain. He knew what would happen from the research, but he won’t remember anything at all except piña coladas in the place of protein shakes, deep tissue massages in the place of pain and sun in the place of bright medical lamps. He has amazing brain activity, no form of cognition problems.”

He was met with silence. Bruce broke it, the person who knew Coulson least. The others were too stunned to speak. “And you wonder why Tony doesn’t trust you. You told me I was here for science. You told Tony you weren’t making weapons. You told Steve his neighbor was called Kate and never told him Peggy was alive. Did you really take Dr. Foster somewhere safe yesterday? Did you really try to stop the World Security Council? Why should we trust anything out of your mouth?”

“I’m Level Nine, why haven’t I heard of this?” asked Tony.

“You didn’t need to know,” said Fury.

“I was told Level Seven was as high as it got,” said Clint.

“There’s a Level Ten, Fury’s the only one with access to the server; JARVIS can’t crack it because it’s off of any known connection,” said Tony, still staring at the man. 

“I want to see Phil,” said Clint.

“He’s in a very precarious situation. Any change in environment could endanger him,” said Fury, “I’ll give you all access to the research.”

“When can I sit next to Phil?” said Clint, insistently. 

“In a month,” said Fury, and Clint nodded slowly.

“I have led men into battle for hundreds upon hundreds of years, I have never done anything as underhanded as you,” said Thor, subdued, seeming more shocked than angry.

“If he wakes up as something else, something dangerous, or broken — something Phil wouldn’t want to be — I will take him out. I won’t let you break him and keep the creature that comes out of this hell,” Natasha spoke evenly. “And when he wakes up, we will tell him the truth. You won’t lie. If he headed this project, I’m sure he’ll want to see the data. If you think you can keep him in the dark, you’re seriously underestimating Coulson’s ability to sniff out a lie. We’ll tell him not to pick at the memories, but we’re not keeping this from him… he’ll probably be excited about studying his results if he was heading the project.”

“Congratulations, Director,” said Steve. “You wanted us united. When he is well, you will grant Agent Coulson Level Ten clearance, and he will head the Avengers. You can keep the rest of SHIELD, but he heads this team. You want this team, then their boss does not report to you; he works with you. And he has access to all the information. Because, if he withholds information, I will believe him when he tells us it’s for the best. Phil Coulson is honorable.”

“Fury,” Tony glanced at his watch, “I assume you set the press conference for noon. Please send someone in with everyone’s contracts and to let us know when we should go where. Bruce needs his bag so that he can go out in real shoes. Steve, is there any other business?”

“No, you’re dismissed, Director,” said Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

The door shut behind the man, and Tony said, “Even if he thought he needed to spur us into action… he saw us afterward, and he didn’t say a fucking word.” 

“Phil will be in charge; Phil will be back,” said Steve. “He is alive.”

“Phil never carried those cards; they were too precious to have in a pocket,” said Natasha. 

“His cards? His near mint Captain America trading cards with only slight foxing around the edges?” asked Clint. 

“Fury said they were in his pocket. They were covered in blood,” explained Steve.

Clint blinked, “He’s going to be pissed.”

“Dad had a mint deck. Phil can have those,” said Tony. “Steve, you can sign them before he wakes up. We’ll get them framed, we’ll decorate his floor in the Tower. We’ll throw him a big party, call him ‘sir’ — the whole shebang. And he’ll have access to the Level Ten server.”

“I cannot believe there are three more levels,” said Clint. “How are you Level Nine?” 

“My father and aunt ran this joint. I’m Level Nine because I used to read and do homework, while hiding out from my father over the holidays, in the Director’s office. People would get nervous, and Peggy would say, ‘Tony is Level Nine. You can speak.’ Eventually, that got written down somewhere. I still have a tough time accessing the server off-site. And I don’t get informed about stuff. Natasha clued me into the app. I mostly avoid this place. And he blocks me out. Level Nine means nothing if the Director doesn’t like you. When I was dying, he had the key to my cure in his hands and he hid it for almost a month. I was dying, and he was so busy testing me that I was on dialysis and scared. Level Nine doesn’t improve how much information you’re given, not if he doesn’t like you.” 

A woman came in, carrying Bruce’s bag, clean uniforms for Clint, Natasha and Steve and a folder, which she aimed to hand to Tony. “You have an hour before you need to head down to the press conference: meeting room A.” Bruce was glad they had time to cool off. 

“Thank you,” said Natasha with a polite smile, intercepting the folder and handing it to Tony. “We’ll be down then.” When the woman left, Natasha said, “Who still tries to hand you things? It’s about the fifth fact people know about you: stopped making weapons, Iron Man, Daddy, green energy fanatic, doesn’t like being handed stuff.”

“I think people do it as a test. And I think they think it’s about being attractive. So they’re wondering if they're hot enough to hand me something.” Bruce had handed Tony a plate of pancakes that morning. He wondered what it meant that Tony had taken it so readily. Maybe he’d still been half asleep. But he’d showered. 

Tony opened the folder and nodded at the contents. “Upside of everyone telling Fury to go fuck himself is that everyone can come to dinner — bacon mac and cheese with roast broccoli on the side because Kitty doesn’t like green stuff to touch the main dish — and then once the kids are in bed we can plan out floors, and I can edit these. Pepper is coming. She’s good at contracts.” He looked at them and shut the file. “I need a snack.”

“If you didn’t have your metabolism, you would be so fat,” said Natasha. 

“Sometimes, JARVIS scans me to make sure I don’t have a tapeworm,” agreed Tony, standing, he braced himself on the table for a moment, wobbling before getting his legs firm. Others went out to change, and Bruce took the folder, looking at the contracts. They were wordy, and he was glad that Tony understood them because they made no sense to him. Tony came back, arms full of food. He took a pen from his suit and started crossing things out. “Bruce, there’s no way you’re accepting their medical. The language is much more obfuscating on yours than Clint’s or ‘Tasha’s. SHIELD wants samples. What do you do when you get sick?”

“Well, I just change. And when I’m changed back, Hulk’s fixed it. Everything from a sore tooth, to a cold, to bullets. Changing to Hulk cures it.”

“Good,” Tony nodded, maybe thinking of Bruce’s confessed of a suicide attempt yesterday, “because you can’t have their medical. No way, no how.” He made slashing movements with his pen over the page. Natasha and Clint came back, talking softly in full uniform, and Tony said, “Have either of you ever felt limited in your job being Level Seven?”

Clint shook his head, “I thought it was the top after the Director.”

“But, Phil was your handler, he had more info than you,” said Tony.

“I thought he had just been here a decade longer,” said Clint with a shrug. He looked to Natasha and said, “Right? That’s what you thought too?”

She shook her head, “I thought that there must have been a Level Eight. I never asked him because I didn’t want to force him to lie. And I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want any distrust amongst us. But I’ve never felt limited being a Level Seven.”

“Okay, I’m knocking Bruce and Thor up to Seven, the contracts list them at Five.”

“Why not move us all up to Nine?” asked Steve. 

Tony looked up from the papers, studying Steve. There was a nervous energy in him, and he spoke gently, “Steve, we’re just starting to be friends and I… I don’t know how to say it without offending you.”

Steve nodded, “Just be honest, and I’ll take it for an honest assessment.”

Tony thought for a moment, eyes moving quickly, “You were amazing as Captain America. You were the symbol America needed to fight the Nazis. You’re the only super-soldier, you’ve got the brains, the brawn and the integrity. But… from the history books… you weren’t a great soldier.” Bruce saw Steve’s nostrils flare, but the man stayed silent, and Tony continued. “You didn’t listen to commands, you went into a lot of situations without orders, without backup and with the attack plan of, well, attack. And fighting against the Nazis, it worked. You’re not fighting Nazis, and you’re not leading regular soldiers. You’re a good leader, but you’ve never respected the chain of command. It exists for the sake of culpability, for the sake of precision. Too many cooks spoil the broth. The chain of command means that you will be given the exact information you need to complete your job and not information overload that might cause you to start questioning things, change the plan halfway through and make a misstep. You need to trust Coulson. If he feels you need to know something, he’s not going to withhold it just because you’re a Seven. ‘Tasha and Clint say that Seven is enough. You need to accept that. You’re the quarterback, not the coach.” Steve said nothing, seeming to think. He looked slightly hurt, but he nodded, accepting Tony’s words. “Here’s a question for you, though. Do you want to be a SHIELD agent? I know that it’s been your plan for the last two weeks. But you’ve been lied to multiple times and spied on. Is this what you want, or is the future overwhelming, and this feels like your only option? We can change your contract and get you the same as Thor and Bruce. You can lead the Avengers as Captain America when the team is needed, live at the Tower, get the bonding and the comradery and not be a SHIELD agent. Do you want to be a spy?”

Steve blinked, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it… I’ve been a soldier for so long, and I’m in a strange, foreign land. They found me so, I kinda feel like I owe them.”

“This whole company was set up by your friends to find you. Finding you was the one job. You owe them literally nothing. It wouldn’t exist without you,” said Natasha. That surprised Bruce — that she would go against SHIELD. “I was loyal to the wrong people for years because it felt like I had no options. You owe SHIELD nothing. Maybe a spy agency isn’t where you want to be.”

“But what would I do?”

“Off the top of my head?” replied Tony. “Retire very comfortably off your back payments of pension from the Army and draw in Central Park every day. Go back to college and finish your arts degree. Become a full member of the VA and volunteer there to help other vets. Work at a boxing gym as a trainer. You’ve got options.” Steve looked overwhelmed. “It’s an at-will contract. Think about it, sign it, and if in a week you think, ‘Nah,’ then quit. For the moment, I’m changing your CO from Fury to Coulson. It’s sort of a formality while he’s in TAHITI, but, still.” Steve nodded, “Also, you’re incredibly underpaid. I’m assuming Coulson did Clint and ‘Tasha’s because theirs are correct — barring the omission of Avenger work bonuses — but yours is thirty-five thousand under what it should be. You’re getting hosed.”

“You could buy three houses with that!” Steve almost shouted. “They’re shorting the guy who caused the creation of the company by three houses?”

“No, inflation, they’re shorting you by a really, really fancy car,” said Tony.

“That’s still a really big short,” said Steve, eyes wide. 

“It’s a really big short,” agreed Tony. “They lied to you, spied on you and screwed you financially. Think about college. It’s free for veterans now.”

“Really?” asked Steve, still seeming shocked.

Natasha looked over Tony’s shoulder, and her eyes went slightly wider, which for her expressions was equivalent to her jaw-dropping. “That’s a level five with a college degree who doesn’t do fieldwork.”

“I’m writing in a caveat for back pay,” said Tony. Then he added, “I’m also crossing out your medical stuff… they can definitely take samples the way this is worded. Actually… I think this might be about TAHITI, but it’s not Phil’s style. So, we’re gonna have to clue him into that when he’s home… Whoever wrote this entire contract should be flogged.”

“I want the same contract as Bruce and Thor,” said Steve, firmly and fast, mind made up in a split second. He looked gray at the idea of medical samples. “I want to do something else, have long visits with Peggy, and make some veteran friends who served in my war. I’m not a lab rat, and I am not being controlled. I want in on the Avengers and out of SHIELD.”

Tony nodded, “Okay, then I’ll ask for a second copy of Bruce’s revised one. His is different from Thor’s because of Thor’s planet-hopping.” He reached out and patted Steve’s hand. “It’ll be okay. It’s a strange, foreign land but you aren’t alone. We all just basically pledged fidelity to each other over SHIELD in front of the Director. You’re not alone.” he held out a packet of M&Ms, “Chocolate?” Then he added, “You ever been to Malibu? It’s beautiful. Maybe come take a break in Malibu.”

“Maybe,” said Steve, taking the chocolate. “Maybe… I could buy a motorcycle and see the country, clear my head until Edwin Tower is ready.”

“That could be cool,” agreed Clint.

“I grew up in ‘20s Brooklyn, filthy mouth borderline street kid, having fun, getting into trouble.” Steve shook his head as he spoke. “And then I was Captain America, and I trained myself out of that, became a role model. And sometimes I get muddled between the two. And I can’t remember if I’m the kid who snuck into Dodgers games, shouted at the umps and never paid for his rides on the streetcars or if I’m a squeaky clean icon. But, fuck Fury.” 

Tony patting his hand. “He’s not your boss anymore. You’re out. It’s over. From what this says, they didn’t take samples while you were unconscious. They waited until you were awake and could sign a terrible contract that’s written so badly you missed it. Have you had a physical since you signed this?” Steve shook his head. “Needed to see medical?” Steve shook his head again. “Then they haven’t got a drop of your blood or a flake of your skin. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He spoke so softly, like soothing a child, and Bruce wondered if this was the dad side of him or if it was the boy who was abused by a cruel father. 

“I was still dazed when I signed it, two days out of the ice. I don’t even think I read it,” said Steve. “They shouldn’t have handed me anything to sign then.”

“That was wrong of them. But it’s going to be okay. It was two bad weeks, a horrible introduction to the future, but you’re okay. We’re a team, we’ve got you,” Tony assured him. “Peggy is going to be here with us in two days. I’ll ask her to stay for a couple of days. I’ll call her right after the press conference, once you’ve had some time to gather yourself.”

“Oh shit,” said Natasha looking at her watch. “Steve, can you pull yourself together in five minutes, or do you want Tony to handle the press conference? It’s almost go time.”

Steve took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He shut his eyes and seemed to will his flush away. He rolled his neck and said, “I was the Army’s dancing monkey for years selling fucking bonds. And I did it all with burning anger in my chest.” He smiled at them, it was the perfect Captain America smile. “Let’s go.”

“No swearing on camera,” Tony said with a gentle smile, and Steve gave a half chuckle. Tony stuffed the last mini doughnut into his mouth. 

“Smiling while screaming in my head is one of my skills,” said Steve.

Tony laughed, “Mine too.”

They walked down to the conference, Natasha, Tony and Clint opening a long series of locked doors and elevators. A man was walking onto the stage, and Bruce whispered to Tony, “Who is that?” 

“The mayor,” Tony whispered back. 

They watched as the man, clearly well-briefed, recapped the day before but never spoke of the nuke. Then he said, “Now, I would like to bring the people who protected us yesterday up here.” He talked about the history of SHIELD, its purpose and the way it had evolved. He explained the original concept for Avengers Initiative and then said, “I’ll allow them to introduce themselves.”

“Steve, take the center of the table,” said Tony, “even though you’re coming out last. I’m running through introductions, everyone else take the next seat closest to me. I’ll showboat it for you.” He walked out, a huge smile, throwing up double peace signs. He took the microphone from in front of the final chair and said, “Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Good afternoon. I am, of course, Tony Stark. I’m not an Avenger, I am their consultant and was never supposed to see active duty. I will introduce you to the actual Avengers. First up, we have a pair of amazing SHIELD agents, Agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.” Natasha and Clint walked out, sedately, and stood behind their chairs. “Next up, he is my son’s personal hero and incontestably the smartest man of my generation. He is a nuclear physicist who published more papers in the first four years after he received his first doctorate than the next most rapidly published physicist did in the first eleven. You may know him better as the Hulk, but in the science community he is, Dr. Bruce Banner.” Bruce felt a blush rising. Again, it had been so long since anyone had praised him, and it just felt so nice. He breathed out and walked onto the stage, leaving the seat between him and Natasha empty. “We have the literal Norse god of Thunder. The Norse thought he was a god, turns out: really nice alien. It’s Thor Odinson.” Thor walked out with a grin. “Finally, as the mayor said, SHIELD’s primary mission since 1948, when it was first formed by my father and aunt, was to find Captain America. Two weeks ago, the organization completed its first mission. Captain Steve Rogers, the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan himself, is the leader of the Avengers.” 

Steve walked out and took his place between Bruce and Natasha. They all sat down, and Steve said, “Thank you, Tony. Thank you all for being here. Yesterday, New York, America and possibly the world faced a huge threat, and we understand that there are many questions about what happened and about who we are. Early estimates are putting the civilian death toll at seventy. That will rise, I’m sure. That number is far too high but, also, surprisingly low considering an alien army flew out of a hole in the sky.” He started talking about the tesseract as both a Hydra weapon and as a potential power source. He passed the topic to Clint, who had been working on the energy project. Then he passed it to Thor to talk about Loki and his actions. Then Steve said, “Dr. Banner came over to help with the science of gamma radiation. He used his ways to track it with machines called spectrometers. I don’t know what those do, but Dr. Banner is the foremost expert on gamma radiation. So, Bruce, can you please explain how you located Loki and the tesseract?”

Bruce nodded, “Of course,” he took a breath and started speaking like he was on a panel at a conference, explaining the algorithm he created for cluster recognition. Then he said, “And once we found Loki, it was time for the other guy, Hulk, to help out. He followed Captain Rogers’s orders and smashed all the aliens that came his way… Sorry about the road asphalt. He’s a pretty blunt instrument. Hulk was thankfully ready to grab Iron Man when he fell out of the sky in a dead suit.” 

“Thank you, Bruce. Agent Romanoff was instrumental in helping me acclimatize, tracking Bruce Banner down a continent away, interrogating Loki to learn what his plan was, and, of course, news cameras saw her fighting on the streets and closing the portal. Natasha, would you like to speak about your role?”

Natasha thought and said, “I don’t think I have much to add that would be useful. The largest part of my day yesterday was kicking butt and not taking the time to take names.” That was a lie, Natasha had been pivotal. Instead, she said, “What I do have more information about is the machine.” She spoke about the kill switch Erik Selvig had managed to build into the portal. She had emotion in her voice as she said, “Closing that portal with Tony still inside… I’m not SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanoff in the Stark household, I’m just Aunt ‘Tasha. Closing that portal was hard.” Bruce believed that it was hard, but he thought the quake in her voice was wholly manufactured. She most likely wanted to keep her cover as the weakest link. Bruce thought that was smart but, also, he sort of felt it went against the entire concept of feminism. “But, any agent will tell you that on a mission, you don’t get a first name. I was purely Agent Romanoff at that moment. Dr. Selvig, while under mind control, built-in that switch. Without him, we would all be dead.”

Tony wrapped an arm around her as he was sitting closest. “We’re good, ‘Tasha, we’re always good. I would have done exactly the same thing. There was no decision.” 

“Mr. Stark carried a bomb into the black hole, and Agent Romanoff shut the hole,” said Steve. “Mr. Stark got out by sheer dumb luck. I have been told it was a nuclear bomb. I have only been awake for two weeks, and that came after my time. Mr. Stark described it as the worst weapon Howard ever designed. As he knows about it and is the person who dealt with it, I’m going to ask him to speak about it. Tony?”

“Dumb luck is right. I always am in control of the suit, until yesterday when it was nothing but dead circuits when I came out. The suit freefell, later my AI informed me that I wasn’t breathing, and I didn’t have a pulse for two minutes. I was a dead man until Hulk’s scream’s vibrations got me back up and running. It was, as the good Captain said, a nuke. Which, famously, Howard helped design — good job, Dad. An organization called the World Security Council decided that they couldn’t risk us failing and Loki and his army winning. He wanted to take over the world, and they couldn’t risk it. I don’t know who they are. I don’t have that level of security clearance. I know they aren’t SHIELD, and I know that the Director of SHIELD tried to stop it. But they didn’t listen, and they thought New York was a smaller price to pay. I can certainly see why. Eight million people vs. the whole world? I can see why. But on the ground, it was obvious that we could stop the horror without the bomb. One man vs. eight million is also pretty easy math, so I just grabbed it. I wasn’t expecting to be sitting here today. I’m glad I’m here, I’m also really glad I don’t remember falling back down.”

“We’re thrilled to have you in the land of the living,” said Steve, Captain America smile firmly in place. “Can you please tell people about your project with the Department of Defense to clean up the city?” 

Tony nodded and spoke about the work as a semi-grassroots effort to be handled by local companies and paid for by SI and the government. “New York’s economy took a huge hit. Businesses are closed today, buildings are smashed to pieces. So, with Damage Control, we’re trying to at least keep the money used to fix these buildings and aid the recovery in New Yorker’s hands. Damage Control’s aim is to facilitate the rebuilding of the city as fast as possible, as well as possible and as economically sensibly as possible. We want this money to stay in New York. The city will take a hit, and we’re trying to alleviate that strain, at least in part. SI won’t be making a penny off this. The DOD is paying to destroy all this alien detritus to make sure that no supervillains end up with space weapons. Yesterday was horrific. The loss of life we saw is tragic. The Avengers had only met yesterday morning. I’m sure that the X-Men or Fantastic Four could have done better, acted more cohesively. No team should have an alien invasion as their first mission. SHIELD had this concept for over a decade, but Captain America was only just found, and Dr. Banner and Thor weren’t even read in until yesterday. There was a wish list of team members. Cap was on there as a dream if they ever found him, Bruce was on there for his brains, a few people had met Thor and wanted him. But Cap was frozen, Bruce was in hiding and Thor was on his own planet. The roster had been more of a fantasy football league than a plan until yesterday. Ideally, The Machine would be a part of this, but he’s on deployment with his day job. If there had been more time to train, to talk, it might have been smoother, but SHIELD pulled the response together from multiple countries and planets in forty-eight hours. Yesterday, the Avengers were what the world had, and we did our best. I’m not an Avenger, I’m a consultant, but it was all hands on deck. I have a young child — I’m happy to fight despots with big guns; I am happy to decommission my weapons that fell into the wrong hands; I am happy to deal with all sorts of weapons but not weird alien tech that my guns can’t match. I am a single dad and need to see my kid grow up. The X-Men and Fantastic Four are amazing; I help them with research, tech and then they do the fighting. The X-Men and Fantastic Four were busy handling other fights yesterday, this group of strangers was what we had. This group will be incredible, but they weren’t really a team yesterday. The Avengers plan on training and working together. Should anything like this ever happen again, they’ll be ready, I’ll be there doing tech and helping behind the scenes and Damage Control is going to try to lessen the strain people would otherwise feel because supervillain fights always leave a mess.”

Steve said, “Well said, Tony. Thor, you are taking Loki and the tesseract back to Asgard this evening. Can you please talk about what the Asgardian legal repercussions will be for his horrific crimes?”

Thor did as asked, talking about what would happen to Loki, about how Earth jails would not be able to hold him, about the importance of getting the tesseract off the planet.

When he was done, Steve said, “Thank you, Thor. We’ll now be opening the floor to your questions.” 

A hand shot up, and a man said, “How have we never heard of SHIELD before?”

Clint leaned into his microphone and said, “There are over four hundred and thirty agencies, sub-agencies and departments in the federal government, have you heard of them all? Did anyone know about the FBI's BAU until Criminal Minds told us it existed? They catch all the serial killers and none of us knew about it until TV told us. Did anyone know about NCIS until the show? We weren’t a secret. We’re listed on the dot-gov sites. There’s nothing nefarious about it. Our work is usually much less high profile; we’re not in the spotlight. We’re an intelligence agency, so we like that low profile. Everyone knows the FBI and CIA, baddies aren’t on the lookout for SHIELD… they will be now.”

There were questions about the timeline of events and clarifying events, but then one person said, “How long has SHIELD known about aliens?”

“Well, the world was informed, in the newspapers about Captain America’s crash, about the extraterrestrial origin of the Nazi weapon he when down with,” said Bruce, irritated at the idea of the conversation going in that direction. “So, since the 1940s.”

“Don’t you think this should have been more publicized?” asked the reporter as a follow-up. “Thor had come here before.”

“True,” agreed Bruce, “The Norse made first-contact. So, if anyone should have said it louder, blame them.”

Clint sort of chuckled at Bruce before he said, “After three decades of studying the tesseract, we turned it on to use as a power source, and, within days, we had a killer alien here,” Clint sighed. “Should we be trying to make more contact or trying to study it? Thor is great, really like him, but do we want to risk it? Aliens already know where we are. They aren’t coming here, and maybe we shouldn’t try to go there. That might just be me. I don’t know who decides what information intelligence agencies share with the public. Maybe that’s not a good answer, but it’s the most thorough answer anyone up here has to give.” 

Another reporter asked Steve. “Are you really the original Captain America?”

“My name is Steven Grant Rogers, I was born in 1920 and — during World War II — I climbed into a machine, was turned into a super-soldier and given the code name Captain America. I can’t prove it, I have my possessions, my memories, but I can’t prove I’m me. I don’t think I left any DNA around back then. I learned the word DNA last week,” Steve shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “Thankfully, the government has faith — they found me in the crashed ship frozen solid with my shield — so my new driver’s license and passport weren’t hard for me to get. The public’s belief about me being real or fake isn’t going to change my actions or my sense of self-worth. My friend Peggy is Tony’s kid’s grandma, I get to see her and she’ll know I’m me. That’s enough. She’s the only one of my friends still alive, so it will have to be enough.”

They went back to informational questions, but then a woman said, “Natasha Romanoff sounds like a Russian name. What qualifications does one need to join this highly classified federal agency?” The question was snide, but Natasha smiled politely. 

“If you are recruited from the general public or apply for a position, you need to be highly intelligent, very trainable and incredibly patriotic. I think most are asked, ‘Y’wanna join the search for Captain America and protect the country and people all over the world?’” said Natasha. “If you are recruited from within the intelligence community, you need to have a ‘very particular set of skills’ and a willingness to commit yourself to SHIELD. Then you submit yourself to rigorous mental evaluation… very rigorous and then a lot of training. Of course, to get security clearance, you have to be an American citizen. I was once Russian but have been an American for seven and a half years. Before you ask the obvious follow-up, I spent nineteen months in psych and training before I was allowed to take part in simple, highly supervised missions. The awarding of security clearance is handled by the state department, not SHIELD. I’ve had clearance for six and a half years.” 

A young reporter’s hand shot up. “‘Agent’ is code for spy when you’re talking about intelligence agencies. So do you, Agents Barton and Romanoff, have cool code names?” She looked innocently excited and hopeful. This was a woman who really wanted superheroes.

Clint smiled, “I grew up in the circus. I joined the circus when I was eight. That’s where I learned archery and acrobatics. I can ride a unicycle on a tightrope and do a backflip through a hoop while shooting a flaming arrow at a target on the other side of the tent… that was a fun part of my act. From the age of eleven, I was branded on posters as Hawkeye — The World’s Greatest Marksman. When I was recruited to SHIELD, Hawkeye became my code name.”

“With Tony’s propensity to make superhero toys,” said Natasha, “I’m sure Black Widow action figures will soon be in toy stores.”

Tony grinned at her but leaned into the microphone to say, “You mock, but ninety percent of the profits go to charities, and ten percent goes to the superhero. Recently, when an X-Man was badly injured, he didn’t have to worry about his bills. Superheroes can’t get Aflac or any other type of supplemental insurance. SHIELD doesn’t have a great retirement plan. So, you mock, but there will absolutely be action figures and outfits for everyone, play compact bows and super fun plastic Mjölnirs. Wait, would that be culturally insensitive, Thor?”

“Nay, friend, children on Asgard play with toy hammers as well. Play is such an important part of childhood,” said Thor, smiling easily. 

“Cool, because they are gonna want it. Charities will get millions of dollars from them, you will all be comfortable and children will have cooler dress-up boxes. You were a spy, ‘Tasha, but now you will most definitely be stopped on the street by parents with kids in costume with the statement, ‘Black Widow is his favorite. Would you mind taking a picture?’ That’s being a superhero.”

A blonde woman spoke without being called on, “Mr. Stark.”

“Ms. Everhart,” Tony nodded. 

“You weren’t meant to be out there yesterday. You are semiretired. So what were your last thoughts going into the black hole?”

Tony just stared at the woman. He blinked, thinking it over. And then Steve said, “Tony, would you mind if I field this?”

“You’re the team captain, Captain, take it away,” said Tony and then lent back in the chair. 

“Thank you, Tony,” He turned to the woman. “How dare you, Ms. Everhart?” He stared her down. “In my day, we had decency. You preface your question by pointing out that Mr. Stark is semiretired. Yesterday, he took a one way trip into a wormhole, and you have the gall to sit here and demand more. How dare you ask to become privy to his inner thoughts? Is this part of the future? Is it normal to feel so entitled to other people’s lives? I heard about the Facebook and that everyone puts all their thoughts on internets, but those people are offering their information. You, Ms. Everhart, have no right to ask that question. Tony, pick someone else.” There was ice in the air, and people were staring Steve, his accent had thickened in his anger. Bruce thought that any question of his veracity had just died. Everything about his screamed Captain America.

Tony pointed at someone, “Danny, has Ashley had the baby?”

A man nodded, “Johnathan Edward, ten pounds three ounces.”

“Edward is a great middle name, but ten pounds?” asked Tony. “Poor Ashley.”

“The doctor said it was a blessing that he’s our second kid. They’re home,” agreed the man. “I’m supposed to be on paternity, but the sky opened up yesterday. I have a question, but I’m sort of afraid of disappointing Captain America.”

Tony smiled, “Steve, I like Danny, we were in the same Daddy Boot Camp when his wife was pregnant the first time, and Win was on the way. Don’t tell him off if the question makes me uncomfortable — he’s not aiming to make me uncomfortable. So, Danny?”

“Yesterday was brutal. How are you feeling?”

“Rough,” said Tony. “In college, I fell down a twenty-four step staircase. I was blackout drunk, I don’t remember it. I only walked away uninjured because I was so drunk I was boneless. The next morning I woke up with a full-bodied bruise with my insides hurting just as much as my outsides. My best friend was shouting at me, on top of everything else, for drinking with strangers who didn’t keep an eye on me. This morning, I woke up with almost the exact same feeling. But, instead of having the man who would grow up to be The Machine shouting at me, I had my four-year-old sitting on top of my chest, poking me in the cheek and repeating over and over ‘Daddy, are you awake? Can it be morning time?’ I got him out of the room, claiming I needed more sleep. Then I cried for about five minutes, vomited twice, showered for over a half-hour, and have been pouring caffeine and sugar into my system ever since to try and keep my pounding headache at bay and stay upright. Sugar and caffeine will keep me going. My son is having two of his friends over tonight, it’s been set up for over a month. They’re sweet kids. But it’s their first sleepover, and if one of them panics, I’m really not looking forward to driving them home to Westchester in the middle of the night.” 

“I’ll drive; you can sleep,” offered Natasha. “It will be Hank, not Kitty, if it’s going to happen.”

“You’re the best, ‘Tasha,” said Tony. 

“But you are cooking dinner, right?” she asked. “I know you’re in excruciating pain, but you are cooking, right? Because I’m looking forward to your home cooking.”

“Don’t worry, I’m cooking,” he promised. “Danny, do you have pictures?” The man nodded, “Can I see your toddler-sized baby afterward?” Danny nodded again. “Great. And next, Peter Eston, how are you?” 

“Great, Mr. Stark, I’d ask how you are, but it sounds brutal. I have a question for Dr. Banner, but I’m also a little worried about disappointing Captain America.”

“Do you mean it maliciously? Because Ms. Everhart and I have a relationship built wholly on antagonism and hate sex.”

“It’s not malicious, but it’s maybe rude?” The man made it half a statement and half a question.

“I promise not to Hulk out,” said Bruce.

“That’s actually sort of the question,” said the man. “Are you okay to be here? I read Mr. Stark’s open letter about you and Ross, I know a little of your work. I’m not questioning the legality or your character, but are you okay to be here?”

Bruce nodded, “I’m fine. It’s a fair question, and I understand the fear. And I’ll say the same thing I said to Captain Rogers yesterday: I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle it.” He smiled gently, knowing where it would go, knowing he was going to be uncomfortable. If he got out ahead of it, he might make it so that no one would ask him about it again. He could stop the story now. “To save you the anxiety of asking the obvious follow up. Hulk is ninety-seven percent in check. If Thaddaeus Ross walked in here with guns and men and pointed them at me, I might lose it. But you have the best way to keep Hulk in check sitting up at this table. Hulk likes Tony so he could calm Hulk down.”

“Me?” asked Tony.

“Yeah, you. He likes you.”

“Why?”

Bruce shrugged, self-conscious. “You are the first person I have met in the Western World who knew both my name and what I had inside of me and was nothing but friendly and kind. Steve tried to behave like that, but I could feel his anxiety. You weren’t scared or nervous. That’s nice. You were teasing me and joking while Steve was asking if it was safe for us to be having fun. I didn’t urge Hulk to grab you while you were falling. He knew that the metal man who he liked was falling, so he caught you.”

“You weren’t having fun, he kept poking you and trigger a hulk out,” justified Steve, looking embarrassed.

“He was poking and teasing and being warm and nice. I was laughing, wasn’t I?” said Bruce. “The Hulk doesn’t get angry at non-malicious teasing. He is pure anger. You think a little prodding from a man who greeted me with a giant smile and a warm handshake spurs an embodiment of rage into action? It doesn’t. Hulk doesn’t like Natasha at all. She promised we were coming here for science. She lied. I like Natasha, but he doesn’t. I would give it a while before asking him to back her.” He studied Steve for a moment and then turned to the crowd. “For the sake of making the general public feel safer knowing he’s here, I will explain this once, and only once.” He took a deep breath. 

“Tony said I was the brightest mind of our generation. I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m smart and have matriculated more. By the age of twelve, I had my first bachelor’s, by the age of twenty-five, I had six fully defended PhDs. I now have seven bachelor’s, three master’s and seven PhDs. None of them are honorary. But it wasn’t brilliance. It was that books distract me from who I am. I have a tragic story, but not so different than many. 

“My father was a well-respected physicist who hated me for being smarter than him. He took that anger out with both words and his fists. I had a mother who loved me and loved and feared him. When she tried to stand up for me, when I was six, he beat her to death in front of me. Bare knuckles take a while to murder someone — it’s not like a movie where it’s one hit and it’s over. He kept hitting her for about five minutes. He went to prison, and I went and stayed with my Aunt Susan. Aunt Susan was very kind, loving but she didn’t want to talk about it and she didn’t want me to talk about it. Instead of getting therapy, I pushed my feelings down and covered them with books. If you asked people who knew me, what kind of man I was they would have told you I was a good guy: soft-spoken, kind, polite, thoughtful, chilled out. I kept my feelings down. I studied and worked and exhausted myself, so I didn’t have to feel what I felt. 

“At the ripe old age of thirty-four, I ran out of funding for my work with the DoD, that I had been working on for eight years nonstop. I needed results in my super soldier research, I tested it on myself. Dr. Erskine’s notes from his work on Steve said that the formula magnified a person’s traits: good became great bad became repugnant. But I was a good guy, I would be fine. The tests to select Steve cumulated in a dummy grenade being thrown and Steve selflessly jumping on top of it. I thought, ‘I would jump on it; I’m good.’ But Steve did it selflessly, and — if we’re being honest — I would have done it because it’s a great way to commit suicide without being judged. So, stupidly, I performed the experiment on myself. And what came out was not a super-soldier. It was the living embodiment of dissociative identity disorder. All the anger I never let myself feel suddenly had its own body. All the rage that I never screamed had an outlet. Hulk and I share a body and a past, but… it’s actually almost textbook DID — what they used to call multiple personality disorder or split personalities. There is some cross over in us, but he’s his own person. 

“All the anger I felt, at Dad hitting me and killing Mom, at social workers who saw our bruises and checked off their forms, at Mom for not running away and saving us, at Aunt Susan for not letting me be angry, at myself for ignoring it and never letting me feel the hurt… all of it had a brand new outlet with skin no one could damage, with fists no one could beat, with indefatigable energy. There was no fear of someone bigger than me hurting me. So I ran away. 

“For the first eight months out of the country, I was Hulk twenty-four hours a day. I managed to steer him away from villages, but that was the only control I had. I smashed woods and rainforests to dust. I lived off of animals that made the mistake of making noise after he destroyed their homes, swallowed raw in angry chomps. And, slowly, I managed to get my voice into his brain. I’d say, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have a bed? Cooked food instead of raw meat? A bath?’ I spoke to the simplest of his drives. And then he would let me control the body for a while, find clothes, go into town, work as a medic, help heal people, have food, be given a place to sleep. Then I would feel him cracking, and I would flee for a few more months. I got really good at talking to him. And then I met monks and shaman and all sorts of people who I could share my story with, and I learned so much about self-care. Many of them, I met while hulked out, and they were spiritual people who didn’t immediately freak out.

“Self-care had never been even an abstract concept to me. I always thought I didn’t need help; I needed to ignore it. And then I met amazing people who told me that the only way out was through. If you had told me, when this first happened, that the trick to keeping my life together would be meditation, yoga and self-hypnosis, I would have laughed and asked how much LSD and patchouli were in that regime. I wasn’t a hippy eating granola and believing in chakras. But I learned ways to communicate with him, to talk, to apologize for never getting any help, for never even acknowledging all the hurt. For years, when I thought of my childhood, I would tell myself other people had it worse, I wasn’t in a concentration camp; Aunt Susan loved me; my father didn’t molest me. I made so many excuses and told myself I couldn’t be angry. But knowing that others had it worse doesn’t change how much I was hurt. You can’t make it go away by saying it’s not as bad as it could have been. It was bad enough, and I finally acknowledge that: it was bad enough. Recognizing that he is a manifestation of dissociative identity disorder means admitting that he was always in the offing. If it weren’t for the gamma radiation and the experiment, I would most likely still have ended up in a psychiatric care program. Harlem wouldn’t have been so damaged, but Hulk would still exist just without the green skin. 

“Treatments for DID vary from patient to patient. The way I’ve handled it, to reclaim my sense of self and an internal balance where I feel healthy, was to embrace my other guy. I met a psychiatrist in Romania who helped me with clinical hypnosis. It was great, and then Ross got a bead on me, and I knew I only had days before he would be there. So she gave me a crash course in self-hypnosis. I still mostly blackout when Hulk takes over, but now I can trust him more. I know, from all our conversations under self-hypnosis, that he’s not actually a bad guy. I only ever remember tiny scraps of information, but I trust him more. I try to fully trust him, but he scares me. So being on a team with people who could take him down is a comfort. 

“I wish, I wish that Ross hadn’t used the armed forces as a private militia to hunt me… I could have learned so much more from that doctor. Knowing that Ross doesn’t have power any more makes me feel a lot more in control of my life. I didn’t have any sort of self-defense training. So when these highly trained military guys would come after me… it was a scared guy and his split personality against an army. I’m a non-violent man. I’m so against violence — still frightened of it — that my mind created an altered state to let it out. And I was trying so, so, so hard to keep him under control but every couple of months they would come after me with big guns. And when they did… there have been some bodies left in my wake. I don’t know how many, and I know that Hulk doesn’t hurt people who aren’t trying to hurt him. But, there have been some bodies who came at me with guns.

“Despite the hurdles, I got in touch with my rage monster, and he feels heard, acknowledged and cared for. He’s not screaming into a void anymore. And he doesn’t like me much, because of the fact that I led a life ignoring him for thirty-four years but he likes soft beds, cooked food and being treated kindly, so he only takes physical control when it’s needed. If I am genuinely terrified, he will take over without my say. That’s happened three times in the last three years — two of those were the last two times Ross’ men were trying to kill me and once was yesterday while the hellicarrier was exploding. When the hellicarrier was exploding, Hulk didn’t feel immediately threatened, and so he fled; he didn’t kill anyone. He was born of pain and from the desire to not be so easily hurt, so if I’m getting shot at, he’s not going to take it lying down. And, honestly, if I’m getting shot at and I’m an Avenger, you probably want the green guy. But yesterday, on the street, I opened the door for him. I let him out on purpose. All I have to do is remember the exact pitch of mom’s screams, and he’s there. The real trick is to always allow myself to be angry, not to try to force him down. That’s how I stop him from just appearing randomly. 

“I’m always angry now, and I don’t just pretend he doesn’t exist. When someone is really rude or hurtful, I no longer just brush it off, I call them out on it. If a reporter asks a stupid, useless question about something from history that is common knowledge and has been the subject of PBS specials, I’ll mock them on TV. The existence of aliens isn’t new, their being very visibly in New York is. If we have to do many of these press conferences, there will be gifs of me rolling my eyes on the internet: fair warning. I’m going to get labeled the jerk Avenger, and I’m okay with that. If my order is wrong in a restaurant, I have learned to actually send it back instead of choking it down. I used to have nowhere to put my anger, and then I found out: instead of swallowing it and a chilidog, I can tell the waitress I ordered a regular hotdog, and she’ll exchange it with a smile. For so long, I viewed even minor things like that to be the world aiming to screw me over. And I swallowed it down and that stupid, petty anger simmered along with the rest of it growing into something vicious. Accepting that I’m always angry made me realize that I don’t have to be silently fuming at the waitress. It was a mistake, she wasn’t out to hurt me and she’ll happily fix it. Not everything has to be yet another insult to injury. Letting myself feel the constant irritation in my life actually helps integrate his personality into mine and vice versa. 

“I’m not pretending to be the world’s most chilled-out dude anymore. Allowing myself to be irritated helps. All the people who thought I was chill didn’t know that I was always angry, and I’m not ignoring it now. By acknowledging him, validating him, he’s not pushing at the bars of a cage. He doesn’t want a chilidog any more than I do, and I wasn’t the only one choking it down. It’s his mouth too. Why do chilidogs even exist? So gross. Voicing irritation for both of us means he has a say in everyday life, a more polite voice than he would use, but he isn’t being muzzled. He’s no longer a rabid dog trying to tear the world to shreds, he’s a vicious watchdog that is loyally guarding the door. You don’t have to be afraid of him; you’re all on the right side of that door. He’s always liked kids and soft animals. But the more I talk to him, the more tenderness he sees in the world, the more acceptance he receives from me, the less dangerous he becomes to the public in general. He even likes some people as individuals: he likes Tony. He likes Tony’s kid, they haven’t met, but he sees through my eyes, and he thinks Win is excellent.

“If I had heard that Ross had lost power, that I could come home and be safe from being hunted, until about a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to anyway. I couldn’t trust myself in a city this size, with places that had meaning and could trigger the anger. Now, I could walk into Harlem, even see old friends and still feel safe in who I am. But, I could never go back to that life. There was a woman, famously she’s Ross’ daughter and a brilliant doctor. Even if I hadn’t scared her so severely, Dr. Betty Ross and I could never have a future. The Bruce Banner, who went into the experiment, was a damaged overeducated thirty-four-year-old who had never stepped out of academia into the real world and was blinded by working on one project for eight years. Now, at forty-three, I’m an overeducated man with actual life experience outside of a lab, and I wouldn’t trade the person I am for who I was. He seemed healthier because he never turned green but, really, that Bruce Banner was toxic inside. I’m mentally healthier now than I was before the experiment.

“So no, Mr. Eston, I’m not the least bit worried about being here. I’m okay. With an hour of yoga, twenty minutes of meditation and about an hour of self-hypnosis, I’m the same nice enough guy I’ve always been. I’m just willing to admit that Aunt Susan might have loved me, but telling a six-year-old to move on after witnessing his mom being brutally murdered was cruel. You get him a therapist. If she had, I might not have ever developed a second, fully formed personality. You can fully prevent DID if you treat it early enough. It is caused specifically by the brain trying to dissociate itself after trauma. I had a lifetime of abuse at six, and I would just tune it out, all the time. It was the only way to cope so, some doctors would say that a personality disorder was an inevitability. Once DID manifests itself, it usually takes roughly eight years to cure. But, Hulk has a body, and I think the gamma radiation stopped my DID from ever being curable. There is absolutely no research on how super-soldier serum, gamma radiation and DID interact. Mostly because the only person to ever suffer from that condition has been on the run for nine years and hasn’t had access to a good lab. Does that fully answer your question? Because I’m never talking about my personality disorder publically again. My ongoing mental health treatment is not a subject I want to discuss in public. I’m not ashamed, but it’s private and not a matter for public speculation.”

“Yes, thank you very much, Dr. Banner.”

“If there are no other questions, I feel our role in this conference is done,” said Steve. “We’ll get through this as a city, but we need to take a beat.” Then he turned, “Mr. Mayor, would you like to take back over?”

“Thank you, Captain. Thank you all for your actions yesterday. How many people did SHIELD lose yesterday?”

“We lost thirty-four,” said Clint. “Our boss, the agent heading the Avengers, is in a medically induced coma. And to his on-and-off-again girlfriend in Oregon, hi, I know you guys are currently off again, but I’m sure you’ve called, and I don’t know where his cell phone is. I will call you: he’s alive, but their best guestimate is that he’ll have to be in a coma for at least five months. But, when he wakes up, he’s gonna be Captain America’s boss… so he might just die from happiness.” To the Mayor, he said, “He’s really into Captain America. He has the original trading cards.”

“Near mint, slight foxing around the edges,” said Natasha.

“It took him several years to collect them all,” added Clint.

Smiling, she said, “He’s going to wake up in three months, watch us making fun of his cards on international TV and make us run laps.”

“Remember when he made us run laps around Berlin?” he asked. 

“Only the footprint of the Berlin Wall, and only two laps,” said Natasha.

“It was one hundred and fourteen miles,” said Clint.

“This is the difference between an American born in Iowa and an American born in the USSR,” said Natasha. 

He shook his head. “Thirty-four of our people died yesterday. Good men and women who signed up to help the country and find Captain America… at least they saw the goal of finding Steve fulfilled. Everyone’s families have been contacted. Our boss is the last person who needed someone to be contacted, his wonderful ex/future girlfriend is his family. We lost too many people, but… we’re agents… we know that it’s probable that we’ll go down in the field.”

“Thirty-four is a terrible toll,” said the mayor.

“It is,” agreed Natasha, “But agents always know there are risks. It won’t comfort their families, but… it lessens the shock. They were thirty-four men and women who worked to do what was right. And that is a good way to go out for us. We’d all rather die of old age in our beds but, if you’re going to die at work, better a supervillain and fighting the good fight than having a filling cabinet fall on you. And that’s where I think we should end our part of this briefing.” Tony moved to stand and then sat down heavily. “Need help?”

“Just help me get to my feet; I can handle it after that. I think the concussion is worse than I thought. I need to vomit. I need to get to a trashcan and vomit now.”

“That might be the sugar,” said Natasha, levering him out of his seat. 

“No, the sugar is the help.” They walked off as the Mayor started fielding more questions about the first responders. Once they were away from the door, Tony lunged to a trash can and started puking his guts up. Gasping, he said, “All the lights were going weird and, for the last ten minutes, when ‘Tasha and Clint were talking, I heard nothing: I just focused on not vomiting.” 

He hurled again, and Natasha grimaced, “I thought you were just saying that on stage.” 

“I can’t see pancake, so I hope I didn’t lose my Imitrex.”

A woman was passing, and Clint said, “Agent Para, is Hill in her office?” The woman nodded, “Great, thanks.” To the others, he said, “I need to do a full report on my time with Loki. Hill must be an Eight.”

“She’s a Nine,” said Tony. “She can take your report. You’re coming to dinner?”

“Can you do dinner?” asked Clint, looking at the way Tony was clinging to the garbage can.

“I once got four bust ribs and a hairline fracture in my jaw from cleaning out a weapons cache in the Middle East. Then I threw Win a birthday party, attended a board meeting and put in six hours in my lab. I’ll be fine. I’m damn well making us a home-cooked meal before Thor leaves.” 

“You used to be so cool,” said Natasha. 

“Then I got a kid,” said Tony. “And as Rhodey pointed out: cool matters to the public, not my personal life. Kitty and Hank don’t think I’m cool, but they do expect dinner. It’s happening, you’re coming, right, Clint? I know the food sucks in SHIELD facilities the world over.”

Clint gave him a small smile, “I do like meals that aren’t from the cafeteria. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Natasha went to a vending machine and got a bottle of water, which she put next to Tony. Then, she took Tony’s phone from his pocket and pressed it against his thumb, unlocking it. She spoke as she texted. “Sorry, Danny. Had to upchuck. Please send pictures of baby Johnathan at your earliest convenience.” She put the phone back in his pocket. “Steve, Thor and I are going to go get some clothes. You and Bruce get a second copy of Bruce’s contract to edit for Steve. Meet you out front for a party bus?” Tony retched again, “Maybe you should go to medical.”

“The same medical that wants samples from Thor, Bruce and Steve? Nah, I’m good. This ain’t my first concussion rodeo.” 

The others left, and Tony said, “Bruce, about yesterday. I’m sorry I checked you out before letting you meet Win, it wasn’t fair.”

“You weren’t the least bit afraid of meeting the other guy; you were just protecting your kid. Honestly, Tony, I liked it. We both liked it: you’re fun.” 

Tony smiled, not the fake one, a real one. “Good, because my kid isn’t the only one who is excited you’re sticking around. And do you think we should build Hulk a floor or just cool rooms on your floor? You should have someplace to hang out when you just need to be really, really angry: snacks, stuff to break, soft things to cuddle. You said he’s an exposed nerve, so he needs a place to feel safe and good. From what you said, he’s not just rage; he’s also a being of hurt, fear and pain. He’s no more alone than you are. All of you needs a home.”

“That would be good, actually, a few rooms; it needs big doors and reinforced floors. Maybe reinforce my bed, sometimes after nightmares, I have to fight him so hard to stay down that I’m exhausted and need to sleep. It would be nice to be able to allow him out and go to those rooms… so, maybe Hulk-sized doors throughout the floor and a couple of rooms that are just his. He’s basically the world’s angriest six-year-old, stuffed animals would be good.”

“Okay, I’m all about accessibility and living up to ADA Standards. We’ll build a perfect floor for the Banner boys. And if there is anything I can do to help you study yourself, I’m here.”

Bruce smiled, genuinely grateful to Tony. “Like I said, I haven’t had access to a good lab. What I really want isn’t even to have him gone. I wanted that for so many years, but it’s not my priority anymore. I want my blood to not be dangerously toxic, and I want the transformation to be less painful. He shrugs it off, but I can’t. That’s all I want: less pain and to not be a public health hazard. What I didn’t tell the guy in there is that the most terrifying thing the public should be scared about is me getting a nose bleed. I want clean blood and to not feel like I was hit with a truck for three days after he comes out.”

“So, we’ll need to follow meticulous safety protocols for me to help with your blood, and then we might need to do some experiments with Hulk, see how eating or sleeping or taking painkillers when he’s in control affects you after the fact. Maybe we can find a regime to make you wake up feeling okay… we need the labs in Edwin Tower for blood samples, and probably his rooms would be the best place for us to do trial runs, we’ll make sure it’s somewhere he likes. You’re wrong though, you are the smartest person in our generation. No amount of drive can get you all those degrees in that short of a time span. Your memory is amazing, and the speed you put stuff together? I’m in awe of you, Bruce, and it’s not the DID that makes you amazing.” He finally straightened up, rinsed his mouth with the water and then drained the bottle, then said, “Okay, let’s get a second copy of your contract.”

“Can you walk unassisted?” asked Bruce. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tony assured him. “Not that I would object to you carrying me bridal style. I know the way to contracts and payroll.” He led the way, opening doors with palm and retina scans. Once in a small room that looked like any payroll center in America, Tony smiled and said, “I’m renegotiating the Avengers’ contracts. I need a copy of Dr. Banner’s with Captain Rogers’ name at the top.”

“That’s a retainer contract,” said the man.

“Yes,” agreed Tony. “He’s transitioning into a new role.” 

The man said nothing for a moment and then said, “I’ll be right back with that contract.”

Turning to Bruce as they waited, Tony said, “I’m looking forward to the toys. I wonder if we can do a toy for you that’s got a door system. You put the little Bruce in a lab coat on a platform and then hit a button, and it goes into a door while the Hulk pops out of the other side. That would be cool. The Hulk toy should have a button to do smashing actions. We can work on it.”

“Tony, no one is going to want toys of me,” said Bruce. 

Tony blinked at him slowly and said, “You don’t know what you just did, do you?”

“What did I do?” asked Bruce. 

“You just made yourself the preeminent superhero struggling with mental health. Three million people in America have DID. Approximately thirty million Americans have a personality disorder. And if you really think some kid out there who is struggling and scared of how his mind works didn’t just watch you and feel suddenly empowered because someone as cool as you admitted that he has a hard time too, then maybe you are on LSD. You said, ‘I’ve got this, and it’s hard, but it doesn’t define me,’ and you became a lot of people’s favorite Avenger. Brace yourself, you said you didn’t want to talk about it publically any more, but you are going to get so much fan mail and thank you letters. And people will forgive you for your brusqueness because you’ve explained it. And, unless Clint starts wearing visible aids, you have the kids with disabilities demo cornered. Also, parents who are mental health advocates are going to point to you to destigmatize mental health problems to their kids. Your toys are going to sell, like hotcakes. 

“But, you don’t have a cool outfit, so I’ll probably keep the lead on that. My armor outsells all the other costumes. I think Iron Man is cool, but the fact that it can also be used to play at being a robot or a knight makes the costume even more desirable to kids. But, if we sell a Hulk bodysuit with fake muscles and a lab coat and glasses as a set… we’ll see. I like the toys. It’s the kindest design work I’ve ever done. Plus, it’s fun when I get stuck on a project to change gears and think, ‘How can I make a dress-up version of Cyclops’ visor that looks right but doesn’t screw up a kid’s periphery vision? And can I make it light up red without the light going into the kid’s eyes?’ Solving one problem loosens me up for another.” 

Bruce felt overwhelmed by Tony’s words. He didn’t know what to think or to say. So, instead, he said, “Did you make the visor?”

Tony nodded, “It retails for fifteen dollars. It’s a nine dollar profit, Scott gets ninety cents, and the Foundation for the Protection of at Risk Minors gets eight dollars and ten cents. Win has one if you want to see it. I almost feel embarrassed about his dress-up box. I think it puts every other kid’s to shame. The total value of his dress-up clothes is the same as a small country’s GDP. The X-Men have a pretty awesome collection, and I make new stuff for them all the time. I get them to approve of it, obviously.” 

The man came back with the contract and Tony took it with a smile and then typed something into his phone. “Transport should be here in five minutes. Let’s go wait at the curb; I want to get out of here.” 

They were silent as they left the building. The others, minus Clint, were already waiting. “How were you able to do that so fast?”

“Natasha and I had go bags, and Thor just asked for the largest size workout clothes SHIELD had,” explained Steve. 

A stretched SUV pulled up, and Tony said, “They were out of party busses, sorry. SHIELD needs to get the Avengers some transport. A small plane could land on the Tower’s massively oversized helipad. But it would need to be able to take off straight,” he looked pensive and then spoke, almost to himself, “I’ll look up the specs for the quinjet. I could paint one Iron Man colors, and no one would know it was yours instead of mine.”

“What’s a quinjet?” asked Bruce as they all climbed into the SUV.

“It’s a compact plane designed by the prince of Wakanda,” said Tony. “Beautiful machine.”

“That’s what we flew from the helicarrier in yesterday,” said Natasha.

“I was on a stolen motorcycle,” Bruce replied. “I feel bad about that.”

“I’ll track the owner down,” Tony assured him. “You have back payments owed to you on papers, you will have SHIELD retainer money, Avengers Action money from yesterday, you’ve been offered a job at SI and you will soon have toy money so, you can pay it back. Or, you can get SHIELD to pay it back, as you were on company time.”

The driver opened the compartment’s window and said, “You guys the real Avengers, or are you celebrity decoys?” 

“I never understand why people think I’m an impersonator,” said Tony. “There is no one cool enough to pull off being me.”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” Tony started making small talk, and Bruce paid no attention. Instead, he stared out the window. They were close enough to midtown to see the destruction. Then he felt a hand on his thigh and looked up.

Thor smiled and said, “It will all be fixed, my friend.”

Bruce forced himself to smile back, “I’m just a little too used to seeing New York broken in the wake of the other guy.”

“The other guy,” said Thor in the same strange, gentle way as he had spoken earlier, “did more good than ill yesterday. Some roads and buildings might have paid the price, but our friend Tony yet lives. The other guy saved many with his actions. I am proud to have fought at his side… although, he does punch very hard.”

“I hit you?”

“Very hard, it was highly amusing.”

“Sorry,” said Bruce with a grimace. He hated the idea of hitting the home team, even if Thor could take it.

“Nay, it was highly amusing no apologies are needed,” Thor smiled and patted his thigh. “We are brothers in combat now.” Then he pointed to Natasha and said, “Brothers and sister, I beg a thousand pardons, Lady Natasha.”

She smiled, “None needed, Thor.”

Tony opened the gate when they pulled up, and he said, “Let’s see what the damage is.” He paid the driver and went up to the house. At the door, he called, “Win, we’re back.” There was the loud noise of running feet, and then Win appeared. He was still in his tutu but was now he had added a tiara, a white and blue checkered shirt, fake glasses and a lab coat. “Win, are you Princess Dr. Bruce Banner?” The boy nodded enthusiastically. “What’s the rule about sciencing without a grownup?”

“Aunt Share had to go to D.C. because stupid Nick is really angry that Steve knows she lives next to him. So she called Peter. First, Peter said that we’re bad at real peopling. He says you need a pillow fort to sleep in at a sleepover. He says everyone knows that.”

“You have a Californian king,” said Tony.

“Not good enough,” said a skinny young man behind Win. “A California king is not good enough for the first sleepover.”

“So we made a great one,” said Edwin with a huge grin. “It’s got sheets and Christmas tree lights.”

“We have Christmas tree lights?”

“Yeah, JARVIS found them for us in the attic,” said Peter. 

“So why are you wearing your Dr. Bruce Banner costume?” asked Tony.

“We made a volcano. We made it with newspaper and glue, and we put tissue paper on the outside, and we looked up what plants grow on volcanos, so it’s all the right colors,” said Win, “So, I had to wear my Dr. Bruce Banner costume.”

“Why is it a Dr. Bruce Banner costume?” asked Bruce.

“Cause it’s what you’re wearing in your poster, silly,” said Win. “I can show you, and you can meet Cleo, she’s my fish, and you can see my pillow fort.”

“Let everyone catch their breath. What’s the rule about other people’s time and bodies?”

“Everybody owns their own body and their time, and you can’t demand either of people. And it’s okay to say no if you don’t want to hug or play with someone. No one owes you their time or body just like you don’t owe them yours. And if you forget it, you’ll end up hurt, sad, with a chip on your shoulder or in jail. And sometimes Kitty doesn’t like hugs, so you gotta ask.”

“I’d love to see your room once I’ve had a cup of coffee,” said Bruce, finding the middle ground but impressed that a child could rattle off the concept of autonomy and consent. 

“Daddy, I don’t have to ask you to hug,” said Win with a smile. 

“No, you don’t, but you’re covered in glue, and I’m in a nice suit. So, please go wash your face and hands and turn your lab coat inside out. Then we can cuddle.”

“Why don’t you just take off your suit?” countered Win.

“I don’t want to be sticky,” Tony laughed. “Go wash up.” The little boy flounced off with a sulky look. “Life is hard,” agreed Tony. Then he turned to the skinny kid. “Peter, Avengers. Avengers, this is my intern, Peter. Bruce, our science bro Peter. Peter, Bruce.”

Peter came to him and shook his hand, speaking fast, he said, “Dr. Banner, it is an honor to meet you, sir. You totally changed my outlook. I, like, couldn’t decide on my major because I wanted to study everything. And then I thought, ‘Bruce Banner has a million degrees, why can’t I?’ People laugh because I graduated high school at fourteen and now I’m twenty-three and about to finish four concurrent BAs. And I finish in six weeks and then two months later start my Masters/Ph.D. program in biochemistry at Columbia. I’ve got nine scholarships, seven grants, financial aid and so much debt, but it was totally the right decision for me.” Then he looked down and said, “I’m still shaking your hand, sir.” 

“You are,” agreed Bruce.

“Peter, let go of Bruce and don’t call your science bro ‘sir.’ It’s weird,” said Tony. “Thank you for looking after Win. That’s definitely bro over intern.”

“Dude, how did you not know he needed a pillow fort? That’s step one. Step two is snacks. You look shaky. He and Sharon baked snickerdoodles.” Tony allowed himself to exhale. And when they were in the kitchen, he slumped against the counter. “Press conference rough?”

“I’m recovering,” said Tony.

“Want me to stick around and help with the sleepover?”

“Pete, that’s really sweet, but go home. Unless, do you want to stay for dinner?”

“I never turn down your cooking,” said Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: amireal pointed out in the comments that I made an error in this. Clint said people didn't know about Homeland Security until after 9/11. I was unaware of the fact that the agency in question was formed as a response to 9/11. I was fifteen at the time and nowhere near as aware of the government as I am now. I have changed the statement to be about the BAU. Thank you, amireal, for helping me and letting me know about my mistake!


	4. Chapter 4

The afternoon was fun. Edwin showed off his pillow fort and showed Bruce his poster with great pride. The others started going downstairs, and Tony tugged him into his arms. “Baby, can I talk to you and Bruce for a sec?”

“Sure, Daddy,” his son smiled, and Tony loved that he was still little enough that a request for a talk didn’t trigger anything bad in his mind.

“I was talking to Bruce today. And I don’t think we’ve been very fair to him. I think that when we’re worried about meeting Hulk, we’re a lot like people who are scared of Hank because of how he looks or people who are afraid of Wade because of his scars and the way he talks to himself. Hulk isn’t scary; he’s a good guy. We judged him without knowing him, and we shouldn’t be scared. Hulk is a part of Bruce and Bruce is our friend which makes Hulk our friend too. Okay?”

Edwin’s face crumpled, “Did I hurt your feelings, Bruce? I’m sorry. People are mean to Hank and Wade, and I don’t like that because it hurts their feelings. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Hey, we’re friends, Win, we’re good. Hulk likes you.” He put out his arms, “Wanna hug?” Edwin lunged out of Tony’s arms and into Bruce’s.

“Can I play with Hulk?” asked Edwin.

“He doesn’t come out very often, but maybe you can. I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’d like to have a playdate if possible,” said Edwin, and he hugged Bruce tighter. “Now that you saw my poster and my pillow fort and Cleo, would you like to see my volcano? We’re gonna take it outside when it’s dry in a few days and put glitter, baking soda and vinegar in it, and it will explode!”

“I would love to finally see your lab,” said Bruce.

The three of them headed downstairs. Peter had his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he scrubbed the central lab bench. “Are you messing with me, handsome?” He laughed and looked up. “Wait, he’s here; I’m asking. Bruce, did you say you have DID?” Bruce nodded, looking embarrassed. “Wow, you’re awesome.” Then he listened to something and said, “Yeah, okay, I’ll ask. Tony, can Wade come to dinner, please?”

“More the merrier,” agreed Tony. 

“Yeah, beautiful, come over.” He listened, “Love you too, see you soon, bye.” He hung up and said, “Wade is going to pester you about Hulk toys. Are you gonna sell it as a set with a Bruce Banner toy? Because he will buy it in a second. Our action figure collection is going to get so much bigger.”

“Why would he want an action figure of me?” asked Bruce, looking confused.

“My schizophrenic, ADHD riddled bipolar boyfriend who has PTSD really wants to be a superhero, and there’s a superhero with multiple personalities. You make him hopeful. He’s friends with Logan, but Logan is just grouchy and missing a large portion of his memories: he doesn’t have mental health problems.”

“See, Bruce?” said Tony, pointing at Peter. “See? I told him that people exactly like Wade would want toys.”

“There’s no one exactly like Wade,” said Peter with a small smile. 

Tony felt warmed but said, “You two are disgustingly cute.”

“We’re a-freaking-dorable. You’re just jealous because you need a grownup in your life.”

“Daddy’s got lots of grownups, Pete,” said Edwin.

“Daddy needs a grownup to have sleepovers with,” said Peter. 

“Are you scrubbing the lab because of the glue?” asked Tony. “How much glue did you use?”

Peter pivoted and pulled a three-foot-tall paper volcano out from under the lab table. “Enough to make this monster.”

“I have never seen a paper volcano that large,” said Bruce.

“Well, Win says he wants to be a physicist,” said Peter, and Win nodded so enthusiastically, “but I want to help Tony expose him to as much science as possible. So: chemistry and a lesson about why different plants grow at different elevations.”

“Arts and crafts and all types of science!” said Edwin with a grin.

Tony smiled, pleased at seeing his son’s smile. It was so easy to forget that he’d been dead yesterday when his baby was so happy. “This lab is beautiful,” said Bruce.

Tony grinned, pleased by Bruce’s approval of the old lab. “This lab is old and outmoded.”

“I would love to see what you think of as modern if this is outmoded,” said Bruce.

Tony exhaled slowly, “Win, I’m exhausted since yesterday. I wanna see my doctor, and I don’t want to live here for the time Edwin Tower gets rebuilt. What do you think about going home for a few weeks, after Nanny visits, until the tower is rebuilt?”

“Yes, please,” said Edwin, pulling the please into about four syllables.

“Bruce, if you would like, we would love to have you as our guest in Malibu. You can see a beautiful lab. Or you can chill out here if you want to reacquaint yourself with the city. Peter, you have full access to this lab, and we will Skype all the time.”

“New York is going to lose you?” asked Peter. “But we’ve only been hanging out in person for a month.” 

He seemed so sad, and the dad in Tony hated to see the kid’s disappointment. He was such a nice boy and seemed to have glommed onto them. Peter’s uncle, the closest person he’d had to a dad, had died a few years back. That had sparked Peter into becoming Spider-Man. Now, Tony had turned up, a scientist superhero who cared about both his education and his nightly activity. It wasn’t surprising that Peter had taken a shine. Tony really liked him too. They had been working together over Skype for almost three years. 

“Sorry, Pete, I wanna talk to my doctor in person. Neither Win nor I like this house. Yesterday was rough. We’re going home until the tower is finished. We can Skype daily. Jarvis will always open this lab for you, and I’ll be here on and off to get the tower back up and running.”

“Can you please feed Cleo for me? Once every three days,” said Edwin.

“Absolutely,” agreed Peter.

“And talk to her a little bit?” he added. 

“Sure.”

“And soon we’ll be back and in my beautiful tower,” said Edwin with a big grin. 

Peter smiled, “Okay. So, are we gonna have to wait until you move back to make our volcano erupt?”

“We’re not leaving for a few days. Peggy is coming up for a visit.”

“Cool,” he still seemed disappointed. “Can I borrow a wrench set? Wade, sort of, used mine, and he got them so sticky with sugar that I’m soaking them.”

“Yeah, of course, you can. If the tower isn’t done in six weeks, we’ll throw your graduation party here.”

“You don’t have to throw me a graduation party. I don’t even have enough friends for a party.” 

“You have friends,” countered Tony. “MJ, Gwen, Flash, Ned, Randy, Harry, Johnny — gag me — Wade and May: that’s a party. Let me throw you a party. We can do fancy brunch or classy dinner: it’s up to you.”

“I could go for fancy brunch,” conceded Peter.

“Done deal, I’ll send out invites and say location pending. Morning after? What are you doing that night?” 

“Aunt May is taking Wade and me out to a nice dinner… she wants me to wear my mortarboard… it’s kind of a fight.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” asked Tony. Peter nodded. “She’s raised you since you were five. She has loved you, supported you, been there for you through tragedy and happiness. And she’s been doing it by herself since you were fourteen: wear the mortarboard to dinner; take the sappy pictures and choke down the crappy baked goods she makes.”

“She keeps crying, like every time I see her. She just keeps saying how happy she is and how proud my parents and Ben would have been.” He smiled at Bruce, a half grimace. “We’ve had a few rough years; she needs me to be okay. And here I am,” he smiled at Edwin, “Awesome well-paid internship with my science bros, amazing boyfriend and soon four degrees. I’m happy, and that makes her happy. And when she’s happy, she cries. But when she cries, I cry — because I’m a sympathetic crier — so I need her to get it together.”

“And you’re taking six weeks for Europe?” asked Tony.

“We compromised. Putting Wade in Europe for that long when he isn’t working is insane. So we’re doing a week in Hawaii, five days in Tijuana, five days in Disneyworld and then London, Dublin, Paris, Rome, Madrid and Berlin in the rest of the time. I am so excited. I got my passport last week: I’m ready now.”

“You’ve never been out of the country?” asked Bruce.

“I’ve never been out of the state. Born in Brooklyn, grew up in Queens, had family vacations in Niagara or the Poconos, stayed in the city for college.”

“Come to Malibu!” said Edwin. “Then, you’ll be outside the state, and you won’t have to miss us.”

“I can’t leave Wade alone in the apartment. He won’t sleep, and when I come home, it will be covered in murals of Spideypool.”

“What’s Spideypool?” asked Bruce.

Peter smiled, “Some people think Spider-Man and Deadpool are dating because they’re seen together so frequently. Wade hopes this is true, and there is fan art on the internet.”

“Spider-Man and Deadpool?” asked Bruce.

“A superhero and a rather high profile mercenary,” said Tony.

“A mercenary?” repeated Bruce. 

“He’s highly selective with his job,” Peter quickly justified. “Think, like, SHIELD agent if they did all their own research, weren’t just following orders and got paid COD instead of with a direct deposit. Spider-Man talked him into no longer doing a lot of stuff he used to do.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” said Bruce. 

“The internet,” said Peter without missing a beat. 

Tony laughed, “Win, go upstairs, your friends will be here any minute, okay?” Win grinned and ran up the stairs. Then to Peter, he said, “He’s going to be sharing lab space. He is our science bro. We like him. You can say it, or you cannot, but he’s already figured it out because he’s Bruce Banner.”

Peter said, “Natasha and that blond guy and Captain America all work for SHIELD. SHIELD does not like that Spider-Man has a secret identity, and they can’t exploit him. SHIELD does not like that Deadpool exposes some of their marks and shines the spotlight on a person’s crimes before SHIELD can quietly put a bullet in their head.”

“We all told Director Fury he’s an asshole today, and everyone is committed to this team,” said Bruce with a shrug. “And Steve quit SHIELD. But, if you want it to stay between science bros, that’s okay too.”

“Wade doesn’t kill anyone anymore. We talked about it a lot… for years and years and years. We were friends in masks for years, flirted like crazy. He freaked out when he found out that he’d been hitting on a fourteen-year-old when he was twenty-six. But, when I was nineteen, and our masks came off… Wade’s my forever boy, and he hasn’t killed anyone in five years. He just really hurts ’em. And they’re all really, really terrible people. He’s never hurt a single innocent person on purpose in his life. It’s rare to marry your first love, but there is no one better in the universe than Wade. He’s my forever boy, and he will wear a big white dress when we get married, and that’s fine because that’s who he is, and he doesn’t kill anyone anymore.”

“Why Spider-Man and Deadpool?” asked Bruce, sounding overwhelmed. 

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider and got superpowers, and he was at the top of his bar’s betting pool for who would die first before he became immortal.”

“They’re adorable together,” said Tony, “It’s sickening.” 

“Are we okay?” asked Peter. “I know we’re science bros, but only for the last couple of hours.”

“We’re good, all good, but I would love to see these superpowers.”

“Oh,” Peter smiled, a happy sort of look. “I will gladly show off.” He hopped on the lab bench and then jumped up. He attached himself to the ceiling and started to crawl fingertips and toes. He let go and just stood on the ceiling, holding out his arms, he said, “Hold your elbows and make your arms rigid. Then put your linked arms above your head.” They did as told, and Peter picked them both up and started lifting them up and down like they were weights. “And this is only some of it.” He put them down and then did a weird summersault like move to land on his feet. 

“Baby boy,” called Wade before bouncing loudly down the stairs. Then he was in the lab and lifting Peter up in a hug. “I missed you all day.” He peppered Peter’s face with kisses as he manhandled him into a bridal carry. Peter just grinned and kissed him back. “Fucking trees would have ruined our picnic anyway.”

“How?” 

“Too much talking. They’ve been yammering all fucking day,” Wade shrugged. He grinned at Peter, “Anyway, y’had’t meet Dr. Banner. Is he dreamy? He’s your Bea Arthur. Is he as hot as Bea?” Bruce cleared his throat, and Wade turned to him. “OMG, it’s the coolest Avenger. I’m, like, your biggest fan. I mean, outside a Petey and Win.” Then he added, “Petey, neck,” Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck, and Wade moved the arm that had been around Peter’s back to shake Bruce’s hand. “When will there be toys? My army of Spider-Men could use more friends than just my legion of Iron Men and Wolverines. A battalion of Hulks would do us good. With smashing action, please and thank you, Tony.”

Bruce looked flummoxed, the man having spoken at such speed, but he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wade, I’ve heard great things.” 

“That’s ’cause Petey loves me.” He squeezed Peter before setting him down. “So, sleepover? So exciting!”

There was the noise of the doorbell, and it startled Wade, making him jump into Peter’s arms like a damsel in distress. “Chill, Wade, that’s an old fashioned doorbell. It’s just the sleepover participants,” said Tony before taking the stairs, two at a time.

“Why does it sound like a dying cat?” Wade called after him. 

He went quickly to the front door, surprised the kids weren’t already running amuck. But at the front door, he saw a problem. Hank looked very downcast, and Tony worried he had already lost his nerve about the sleepover. Remy was crouched next to him. “Hey guys,” said Tony. “This is the least interesting part of the house. Come on in.” Tony saw Hank plant his feet. 

“Hank doesn’t wanna come in ’cause there’s strangers,” explained Kitty. “Strangers are mean.”

Tony crouched too, “Buddy, ‘Tasha, Peter and Wade are here: they already really like you. Bruce Banner is here, he’s so excited to meet you because he’s a science bro. And then ‘Tasha’s best friend is coming: he’s not gonna be mean. And Thor and Steve are superheroes: Steve was born in 1920, and he looks only a little older than Peter and Thor’s an alien. No one is going to think you’re different; everyone here is different. This is the same as us coming to visit you at school. Just think of them as X-Men you haven’t met yet.”

“But ‘Tasha’s friend is normal,” protested Hank.

“He shoots a bow and arrow, Hank,” said Bruce, now behind Tony. “He grew up in a circus. He’s far too cool to be normal. Win’s been so excited to have you for a playdate at his house. There are cookies, and Mr. Stark is making mac and cheese. Don’t miss out. I’m Bruce; I have been looking forward to meeting you. I’m your new science bro.” 

“I grew up in a circus,” Remy reminded the little boy, “It sounds like Clint is not so different from me.”

“You can play with Edwin’s toys and his dress-up box,” said Tony. “He made a pillow fort for you to sleep in. And I got kits that let you paint your own little clay bowls.”

“Y’know you love painting,” Remy said gently. 

“I do like painting,” Hank conceded.

“Why don’t you come in and see how it goes for a little while, while Remy has a drink, and you can decide if you want to stay, okay?” asked Tony.

“Okay,” said Hank. 

“Come on, let’s get cookies!” Edwin took his friends by the hands and led them into the kitchen, followed by Bruce. 

“I brought him to the supermarket to pick cereal. I didn’t even think about it. At school…” Remy shrugged. “It’s easy to forget. But some adults and kids treated him…”

“Poor little kid. The world sucks. Did you drive all the way here?” asked Tony. Remy nodded, “You’ve had your license for a week, and you drove into Manhattan?”

Remy said, “It’s only thirty miles, but this city is hard. All the adults are away or injured. The children were so excited.”

“Your nerves must be fried. That’s a terrifying trip for a new driver. Come have a drink and a cookie,” Tony said. 

In the kitchen, Thor was letting the children attempt to pick up his hammer. There was giggling, and Hank was smiling. Tony quietly went to pour out glasses of lemonade. He handed one to Remy. “A toast to Remy for being so brave and driving into the city a week after getting his license.”

Remy laughed but also looked embarrassed. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you for driving us to our sleepover,” said Hank with a smile, and Tony mentally let out a sigh of relief. Once, before Edwin, a child rejecting a sleepover would have meant less than nothing to him. But his priorities had changed, his friends had changed. His life was happier now. 

“Got you guys special glow-in-the-dark friendship tattoos,” said Tony. “They’ll glow in your pillow fort tonight.”

Remy chatted for a little while and left without Hank, promising to call Tony once he was home safely. The kids went upstairs to play in Edwin’s room, and Tony covered the kitchen table in newspaper. And started to do prep to cook dinner for the army that he hadn’t really expected to be feeding. The kids rushed down the stairs in a variety of play uniforms, butterfly wings, and superhero costumes. “Wow, looking good, guys,” said Tony.

“Win’s got the best dress-up box,” said Kitty, enthusiastically. 

“It’s even better than ours,” said Hank. 

“And yours is really, really good,” said Edwin.

“Add smocks so you can paint,” said Tony. He set out the kits for the bowls and kits to make small clay animals that could go on leather cord necklaces. 

“Can I play too?” asked Wade.

“Got tons of kits, you can if the kids are okay with it,” said Tony.

“You can play with us, Wade,” said Kitty.

“Thank you, Butterfly Princess Wolverine,” said Wade sitting down.

“Wade, watch your language and, Peter, watch his language,” ordered Tony. 

Clint came in while they were playing with their crafts and said, “Oh, wow, cool projects, guys. Hank, Kitty, so nice to meet you; I’m Clint.” Then he looked at Wade and said, “You’re a grownup I don’t know.” He held out his hand, “Clint.”

“Hi,” Wade said brightly, “I’m Peter’s boyfriend, Wade.” 

Peter was on the counter and waved, adding, “I’m Peter, Tony’s intern. We’re not here for the sleepover. But you don’t say no to Tony’s cooking.”

Tony cooked masses of bacon mac and broccoli, put together a salad with eggs and heated up frozen chicken strips, egg rolls, garlic bread and tinned corn, wanting to have more than enough food. “Kids, let’s clean the table up,” said Wade. 

“Look at those beautiful bowls,” Tony exclaimed, “those are gorgeous. Let those dry and give me your clay animals to bake. Turn your smocks inside out and go wash up, please.”

The kids all ran off, and Wade started to fold all the newspaper in on itself. “Wade, did you make the Hydra symbol?” asked Tony, looking at the clay figures.

“Eww, Nazis? No. It’s Cthulhu: way more tentacles,” Wade protested as Peter handed Tony a cute little mouse he had made to be added to the batch.

“Well, nice job, boys, they’re beautiful.” Peter laughed as Wade preened. Tony could never tell if Wade was being serious or messing around. The lack of eyebrows and the presence of deep scarring made reading him difficult. 

In trying to be a good dad, he had always exposed Edwin to people with different backgrounds and lifestyles. His efforts had actually brought Tony in contact with people he never would have socialized with on his own. When he’s been expecting Edwin and working so hard to be a good dad, he’d actually become a better person. Before Edwin, Tony would not have associated with Wade. 

He appeared dangerous and dim at first glance, so Tony would have either hunted him or avoided him. And while the man was deadly, he wasn’t dangerous; he was strangely innocent. As for being dim, he knew five languages and knew a lot more about the world than Tony did, having traveled constantly since he was sixteen. The army had made him deadly, torture had left him unhinged, but he was basically a nice guy who was kind to Edwin. The overly demonstrative love he and Peter shared was also appealing. There were no power plays; it was all affection and mutual support. Their behavior was much healthier than anything Edwin would see on a screen. Peter was right, Tony did need a grownup to be with, not just for himself but for Win’s sake.

Bruce had a Coke lifted to his lips. Tony looked at the man’s throat as he swallowed. He texted Rhodey while gathering plastic dishes. “Hypothetically, can science bros sleep together, or is it incest?” As Tony started putting plates together for the kids, his phone vibrated, and he glanced at it, “Ew, are you drunk? Neither of us wants that. Drink at least two glasses of water.” Tony typed fast, “Win has brought Bruce Banner into the fold. He’s even prettier in person than in his headshot or the few video lectures.” The answer was faster this time, “Abort.” Tony typed back, “I’m flirting. Semi aggressively. Maybe I’ll have a new last name by the time you get home. Doesn’t Stark-Banner sound awesome?” “Abort,” Rhodey responded instantly. “Nope,” Tony texted back. And as the kids came in, he said, “Hank, are you eating corn at the moment? I can’t remember if you like it this month.”

“Not on the cob,” replied Hank.

“It’s not on the cob,” assured Tony. He said, “Win, can you please get knives and forks for everyone? No sharp knives.” He put food on each kid’s plastic plate, making sure they all got what they liked. He placed them down on the table and said, “Bon appetite, friends.”

Win gathered all the silverware as Natasha got paper napkins. “When did you get classy, Tones? You never have napkins: it’s always paper towels.”

“The personal shopper thought we might want to ‘supplement our cloth napkins,’” he said, making finger quotes. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Would you guys mind if we use paper plates? I haven’t done the dishes in a few days.”

“I can do dishes,” said Steve. “I did dishes professionally once. It was one of my four jobs at the time.”

“A machine came out, it became popular after your time. It’s called a dishwasher,” said Tony. He pointed to the two units, “One of those is clean, but I honestly can’t remember which.”

Natasha spoke softly. “Tony, you’re exhausted. You have a bad concussion. It’s Edwin’s first sleepover. Enjoy your kid’s playdate. Stop being a host. If we’re all going to live together, you won’t be able to keep it up.” She opened both the dishwashers and handed him a clean plate. “Serve yourself and eat.” 

“I like being a host and showing off.”

“Y’ vomited for ten minutes after the press conference,” Clint pointed out gently. “We’ve got this.”

Tony did as told, and they worked as a perfectly choreographed team, emptying the clean dishwasher and putting the plates from that morning into the dirty one. 

“So no one does dishes anymore? I’ve been doing dishes in my apartment,” said Steve, sounding confused, a little sad too. It would be weird to see significant technological advancements that everyone else thought were dull and commonplace. Tony thought it would be almost like him visiting an alien world with technology. Thor had a magic hammer, and he swore that was just science. 

“Seventy-five percent of American households have dishwashers. A lot of apartments don’t; most houses do,” said Natasha. “Most restaurants still hire dishwashers, if you’re interested in getting your old job back.”

“Why do you know that statistic?” asked Bruce. “That’s a weird statistic to know.”

“Deep cover as a normal American college student: I boasted to my fellow students that I had a dishwasher and invited them to use it after parties. I knew they didn’t have one because apartments that college kids rent statistically don’t.”

“How is that a mission?” asked Bruce, sounding more confused. 

“It was before I joined SHIELD… a German politician’s daughter lived a floor above me. It was an Ivy League; she was visiting for a semester. He had something,” she started to explain and then shook her head, “This isn’t a great story for dinner time, actually.” 

“No Russian black ops at the table,” agreed Tony. Then he added, “We’re going to need a significantly larger kitchen table than the one I ordered for Edwin Tower.” People were sitting on counters and leaning as they ate.

Clint smiled at him, “Nat always talks about how you’re so vague on somethings and then obsessive over others. I thought she meant that you can’t remember appointments, but you make the most precise tech around. Now I’m seeing it a little. Whatever table you have works. Is anyone unhappy eating like this?”

“This is delicious mac and cheese,” said Steve, who was leaning with his back against the fridge. “Your food in the future overall better than ours, but this is very good. I’m happy to be fed and included.”

“We always eat like this,” said Peter, from his perch next to Wade on the counter. “Wade’s idiot best friend broke our table during a heated game of Risk.”

“I thought Logan was your best friend,” said Hank. “Did Logan break your table?”

“Nah, a guy named Weasel, who is a sore loser,” said Wade. “Logan is my favorite fellow Canadian, Weasel is the guy who owns my favorite bar who can get his hands on anything illegal you want.”

“Like what?” asked Edwin with interest. 

Tony turned and stared Wade down, and the man faltered, “Fireworks.” Tony gave a slight nod and went back to eating, glad drugs, weapons, mercenaries and prostitutes had not entered the conversation.

“Daddy, can we get fireworks?” asked Edwin.

“No, honey, it’s illegal to buy fireworks,” replied Tony. 

“We could make little ones in the lab. Peter can help with the chemistry.”

Tony considered it, “Maybe.”

“Tony,” Natasha said sternly from beside him.

“Aunt ‘Tasha overruled me.”

“We could do it when she’s not here: at my Tower,” Edwin attempted to whisper conspiratorially, but he wasn’t great at whispering.

Tony laughed and said, “Actually, Win, we talked to stupid Nick today. Everyone called him stupid to his face. We told him that the Avengers are going to work for Agent Phil and not him. And we told him that everyone is going to have a floor. Aunt ‘Tasha will be living with us.”

“But you’re not an Avenger,” said Edwin, looking worried. 

“No, Win, I’m a consultant and the landlord, not an Avenger.”

“Can Peter and Wade have a floor?” asked Edwin hopefully. 

“I already offered: Pete shot me down.”

“Peter, it would be so much fun,” Edwin said, using puppy dog eyes on him.

Peter smiled, “I know. And maybe someday I will. But, for the first time ever, I’m living a very independent life under my own roof. I like that.”

“You can pay me rent,” offered Tony. “SHIELD is paying me rent.”

“Rent on a floor of the tower? We can’t afford that,” said Peter.

“I’m charging SHIELD twenty-five hundred. Friends and family, I’ll knock it down to one twenty-five.”

“We could easy afford that. Please, Petey?” said Wade.

“We’ll discuss it later,” said Peter.

“Easy twenty-four-hour access to the lab, no irritating commute, and, if I need to run out in an emergency, you’re right here to watch Win — that’s the friends and family part,” Tony grinned, hoping to get him to agree.

“So many playdates,” agreed Edwin. 

“Maybe,” said Peter. “Maybe.” 

People praised Tony’s food, and the discussion turned to Hank and Kitty’s schooling. The meal was fun, and Edwin said, “Can we go play, please?”

“What do the three of you say?” asked Clint. 

“Thank you for dinner,” they chorused. 

“You’re welcome, go play,” agreed Tony. Three fled the table and Tony said, “I think it’s going well.”

“You’re not going to know until two AM,” said Clint.

Tony smiled, “I’m calling Pep, let’s start reviewing the contracts. J, can you please call,” then he sighed, “no, you can’t call her through the house phone system because this place sucks.” Instead, he pulled his cell out and hit one.

She picked up quickly and said, “I’m flying up now; I’ll be there in a half-hour. They stopped all the planes and finally reopened the New York air space. Can I land on your father’s helipad?”

“Sure. We’re just finishing up dinner. Do you want me to make you up a plate as we put away leftovers?” 

“We?” asked Pepper, “you kept with the sleepover? You were dead yesterday.”

“Yes, we went ahead with the sleepover. Also, the Avengers and Peter and Wade are here.”

“Tony,” she said, sounding worried. 

“‘Tasha is keeping an eye: I’m not overexerting myself. Do you want me to make up a plate?”

She huffed. “I’ll see you soon,” Pepper said and hung up.

“Pep is angry,” he said. “Possibly too angry to eat.”

“I’ll talk to her,” said Natasha. “Now, you sit, let us clear the table and you start looking at the contracts.” She handed him the file and took his plate. 

Tony opened it and started reading, then he said, “J, email Fury, tell him to rework Phil’s contract to indicate his promotion, then have him send it to me. Please and thank you.”

“Of course, Sir.”

He started adding things to Natasha and Clint’s contracts and then moved on to Thor’s, Bruce’s and Steve’s, crossing out words, upping numbers, adding in Steve’s back pay. He closed the folder after twenty minutes. “I think they’re right, but I want Pep to see them first. Then we’ll send them back, non-negotiable. ‘Tasha, Clint, you’re not getting raises, just new rates of hazard pay. Phil did a good job on your contracts.”

“Can you take a look at my retirement portfolio?” asked Clint.

“I can do you one better. I’ll have my guy look it over.”

“That would be great.”

“He can look at yours too, ‘Tasha.”

“I don’t have one; I just assume I’ll get stabbed to death at one point,” she shrugged.

“You need a retirement plan,” said Tony.

“Can you look at my finances?” asked Wade.

“Sure, what sort of paperwork do you have?”

“All the paper, about fourteen million dollars stashed in different locations… I don’t know what to do because I’m gonna live forever, but that’s a lot, right?”

“Yes, your planned immortality may be a spanner in the works,” agreed Tony.

“I have a financial question. How do you pay back two hundred thousand dollars in fifteen years?” asked Peter. 

“Get a fabulous job in your field while working through grad school,” said Tony. “I happen to know of a lab that would kill to have you.” He handed out contracts as people came over. “These should be right.”

“Tony, we should go: nightly hobbies,” said Peter.

“Okay, call up to the kids. Are you coming by tomorrow? Your battery of simulations should end around two, right, J?”

“One fifty-seven, sir,” JARVIS replied. 

“I will be over, I want a postmortem on the sleepover,” said Peter, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing his skateboard and backpack from the corner he waved at the room, “Bye, everyone, it was nice to meet you all.”

“Bye, Avengers,” agreed Wade.

Tony heard them making their goodbyes to the kids, and Clint came and studied him. “What?” he asked as he heard the front door close. 

“Are we supposed to just pretend we don’t realize that’s Spider-Man and Deadpool?”

“No, Clint, you’re supposed to be polite and not call it out,” said Natasha. 

“Spideypool is not just an internet thing,” added Clint.

“What makes you think he’s Spider-Man?” asked Tony. 

Natasha and Clint just laughed. “Is that really how you’re going to play this, Tones?” she asked. 

Tony considered his options. Then he said, “SHIELD is manipulative and cruel and exploitative. As a fourteen-year-old he was so scared that you would threaten to tell his aunt or endanger her to keep him in line. You can’t argue that that was completely illogical. SHIELD’s not a nice organization. He has a secret identity because he likes having a normal life — not a cover — just a life where he gets to talk about normal, non-superhero stuff.”

“I’m not gonna report him, and I’m not gonna call him out,” said Clint, “I just think it’s silly to pretend I don’t know.”

“He’s very young to have been superheroing for so long,” said Tony. “And he’s had a hard road of it. Let him decide when to come out. It’s like knowing someone’s gay; you don’t force them to say it; you let them tell you.”

“Who is the Man of Spiders?” asked Thor. 

Tony said, “You guys handle that, I’m going to go tattoo my kid.” He picked up his stack of tattoos and went upstairs. The kids were all giggling and he popped his head around the door. “How’s it going?”

Edwin popped his head out of the tent, he was wearing a jester’s hat, “Don’t make it be bedtime, please, Daddy. Don’t make it be bedtime.”

“Not bedtime. I brought up the tattoos.”

“Tattoos,” they chorused with excitement. They spilled out of the fort, all in new outfits. 

He sat on the floor and spread them out in front of him. “Everyone gets five. Pick your designs.” He watched as they poured over their designs. He’d stacked the deck. He already knew which they would pick. 

Hank held up a mermaid saying, “Kitty, you should have that.” They swapped back and forth and finally Hank smiled at Tony. “We’re ready.”

“Okay, everyone into the bathroom.” Tony sat on the closed toilet and said, “Arms? Cheeks? I say the glow-in-the-dark ones should go on your wrists, all the same, ’cause you’re a team. But I think you can get creative on where the others go.” He started applying them in a line, finishing with the last kid and turning back to the first. There was a lot of giggling, and he got his phone out, saying, “Let me take pictures for Logan.”

The glow-in-the-dark tattoos had the date and said, “First Sleepover!” in a bold font.

“Tell him we miss him,” said Kitty.

“Ask him to come get us in the morning,” added Hank.

“I’m sure he will if he can, honey,” said Tony. He wished he could be more reassuring. 

“We called him before we went to bed last night and the night before. Can we call him tonight?” asked Hank, seeming anxious. 

“Of course we’ll call him,” promised Tony. He sent the pictures to Logan and also saved them to JARVIS’ server dedicated to Edwin. Some parents had photo albums; he had a server of photos, scanned birthday cards, letters and so many videos. JARVIS silently sent a picture to Tony’s phone. It was a shot of the kids’ shadows against the sheets of the fort. They weren’t wearing any hats, their silhouettes were beautiful. It almost stopped Tony’s heart. He went to send it to the photo printer in the tower and then saw it was offline. Instead he messaged JARVIS. “Printed to art size, framed, hung in his room in the Tower by the time we’re ready to move in.” 

He said, “You have an hour, and then we’ll call Logan and then bedtime.”

“Can we go swimming?” asked Edwin.

“Did you guys bring suits?” asked Tony, and they both nodded. “The tattoos are waterproof, so if you want to, yes, you may go swimming.”

“I want to,” said Hank.

“Me too,” said Kitty.

“Okay, then you guys get changed, while I put on my suit, and we can go swimming,” he agreed. He went into his room and quickly changed into his shorts. He headed downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this and I love hearing your thoughts in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

Pepper was just walking in, and she looked at him. “Laps, Tony?”

“No, lifeguarding. I’m not overexerting myself, Pep, promise.” 

The kids came barreling down the stairs, and Edwin said, “Aunt Pepper! We’re having a sleepover! It’s so fun, and we’re going swimming!” He hugged Pepper and then tugged on Tony’s hand. “Come on, Daddy.”

“Give me two minutes to talk to Aunt Pepper,” he said. 

“But, Daddy, we’ve got less than an hour,” Edwin reminded him. Edwin wasn’t great on time yet, he sort of understood it, but usually, Tony had to contextualize it for him. Now, even though Edwin didn’t know how long an hour was, he knew it was ticking away while they stood there.

“Win, make you a deal,” he smiled at all three kids. “Because it’s an extra special night and your first-ever sleepover, you get a full hour from whenever you hit the water. But I need to talk to Pep, can you get the beach towels, please?” The kids ran off, and he said, “I know you’re concerned about my health and wellbeing, Pep. But all I could think about, flying into the hole, was wanting one more minute with him. He wasn’t the only one excited for tonight. I got custom-made temporary tattoos and art kits. I planned this. Remember, back when I was run down and tired and had the big Navy contract to fulfill, and you told me not to go away for that dirty weekend with the Italian model, and I went anyway? Imagine that but times a hundred. So don’t bother telling me off because I don’t care and I’m not gonna learn a lesson. I’m exhausted, and I hurt all over, but I’m having fun.” The kids came stampeding again. Kitty got to him first, and he swung her up onto his hip, making her laugh. “Let’s introduce Pepper to the Avengers and then go swimming.” Edwin ran into the kitchen with Hank’s hand in his. 

“We’re going swimming!” he announced happily. 

It made Tony smile, and he said, “Pepper, the Avengers. Avengers, Pepper.” He noticed they were all looking at him funny, and when he followed their eyes of sight, he saw they were staring at the arc reactor and all of the scars of his torture. He always wore a shirt in public, and he just hadn’t thought about it when talking to the children about swimming. Pepper was family and had seen it many times. So had Natasha, and she wasn’t paying any attention to it. He snapped his fingers on the hand that wasn’t holding Kitty, “My eyes are up here, guys.”

“My friend, I am sorry for my offense. I did not realize you were truly the man of iron.”

“It’s not iron, silly,” said Edwin. “It’s surgical steel and vibranium. Daddy and Uncle Rhodey figured out how to make the rarest metal on Earth, and they got lots and lots of paperweights from award people. It’s the prettiest blue in the world, and it was my nightlight when I was a baby.” Tony winked at his son. 

He didn’t look at the others as he gathered the folder and said, “Pepper, can you make sure that these good people aren’t getting S-C-R-E-W-E-D by SHIELD?”

“Daddy,” said Win. “We can all spell.”

“Pretend you can’t,” said Tony. “Pep, there is food in the fridge. We’re going to the pool because I promised the kids a full hour, and I promised Logan they wouldn’t be up too late.”

Natasha glanced around the kitchen and said, “Now that this place is spotless, I’ll join you in swimming.”

“Do you have a swimsuit?” asked Kitty.

“I’m wearing underwear, so, yes.” Natasha pulled her shirt over her head and said, “Never let anyone tell you what to wear or do with your body.” Then she smiled, “Race you to the pool.”

She went to take off, but Hank protested, “We don’t know where it is.”

“Oh! Then follow me,” she took Hank’s hand. 

As Tony walked away, he heard Pepper say, “Didn’t your mothers ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” 

Tony loved the house’s pool. It was one of the few places in the house that held nothing but happy memories. Tony wasn’t sure if Howard had ever stepped into the room after it was finished. There was a lap pool in the yard that his father had used every day. But the beautiful art deco indoor pool had been his mom’s realm. He had a perfect memory of his gorgeous blonde mother in her old fashioned ‘60s, high-waisted red bikini. Tony thought she was a goddess.

“It’s really pretty,” said Kitty, looking around. “It’s got pretty windows.”

Tony looked at the stained glass windows, and the glass ceiling, “A slice of heaven,” he agreed. “You want me to throw you in or put you down?”

“Don’t throw me,” said Kitty, scrambling down him and jumping into the pool of her own volition. Hank did a cannonball as Edwin went down the stairs.

“JARVIS, start the clock on one whole hour,” said Tony. 

“I’m going off the board,” said Natasha, smiling at the kids. 

“But it’s so high,” said Kitty, treading water.

“I like danger,” said Natasha as he climbed the sixteen-foot stairs. Looking down, she said, “Hank, can you move back a little bit, please?”

He moved, and she did a beautiful dive. “Did you go undercover as a dive instructor?” asked Tony, sitting down on the thin bench that went all around the pool, just under the water, being on the ledge made it so he could enjoy the water while lifeguarding.

“In Italy,” confirmed Natasha. “I was fifteen.”

Pepper came in with a glass of wine, and a bowl of mac and cheese, with the folder tucked under her arm. “It’s always so nice and warm in here. I know you hate this house, but this was where I started my whole adult life. This was my first office. And Mr. Jarvis was here. Are you guys doing okay here?”

“We’re going home to Malibu until the tower is done,” said Tony, allowing his legs to sway in the water.

Pepper exhaled dramatically, slumping slightly as she did. “Thank God, this whole house is toxic. It’s like there’s a miasma of Howard and malevolence in the air. I never understood why Mr. Jarvis liked it.”

Tony laughed, genuinely amused. The tenseness that had been with him since the others had stared at his arc reactor left him. “I need to figure out how much work the tower needs, Win and Peter need to set off the vinegar volcano they built. I think I’m going to be coming out here a lot during the day, Happy is going to be babysitting. Also, I might need you to take Win for a few extra grownup doctor lunch if possible. I need to have some quality time with the doctor.”

“I can take him as much as you need. I had the contractors crawling all over the building today with safety inspectors. They should have a report for us by midday tomorrow. I know that the arc reactor for the building is holding steady. You’re safe on that. You might be able to leave it to the contractors. You can stay home, swim with Win, play on the beach. Just take the time to recover.”

“That would be so nice. The tower has been swallowing me. Wasn’t it supposed to be your baby?”

“It is my baby,” she replied. 

“Give yourself twelve percent of the credit.”

“Twelve percent?”

“An argument can be made for fifteen.” 

“Twelve percent? For my baby?”

“I did all the heavy lifting. Literally: I lifted the heavy things.” She laughed. “I’m going to pay for this in some subtle way, aren’t I?”

“It’s not gonna be subtle,” she said.

“It’s a beautiful building, Pep, and convincing the board to bring a new project to New York after years on the west coast? Impressive. And convincing the city to let us alter the skyline? I’m so glad I’m not the CEO anymore.”

She smiled, “I’m glad you’re coming here to head the new R&D unit. It means a lot to have you back in a company workshop.”

“Well, when I live above it, it makes me a lot happier. It’s the same as going into the basement back home. I am talking Bruce into signing on to the R&D division.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding intrigued. “Does he seem interested?”

“Very,” he replied. 

“He is going to get offers from Oscorp, Hammer Industries, Cord Industries and Rand Enterprises,” she pointed out.

“I like him, as a person, He likes Win. He is officially a science bro. Offer him two hundred a year, and he’s onboard.”

“What perks will we need?”

“The Avengers are moving into the tower, SHIELD is paying rent and upkeep. So, housing won’t work… He’s not materialistic, so you won’t get him with stuff… good title, that would help. A lab of his own and an assistant of his choosing. Don’t hard sell him. He’s in for playing in labs. If you make it feel too pushy, he’ll spook.” Bruce walked in, and Tony said, “Speak of the devil.” Bruce’s self-esteem really did suck, he glanced over his shoulder, looking to see who they might be speaking about, apparently not thinking it could be him. “We’re talking about you joining the R&D division.” 

“Oh, yeah, Ms. Potts, I know Tony is the Head of R&D, but I would be happy to interview with you.”

“Bruce,” said Tony with a head shake, “you’re the most respected nuclear physicist in the world. We’re talking about how much money we need to offer you to make sure you don’t listen to other offers.”

“Oh, I think it would be nice to work with people who use ‘science’ as a verb. And I’ll be living at Edwin Tower,” said Bruce.

“Bruce, stop talking, you’re hurting your salary offer when you talk about the perks,” said Tony.

“Two hundred thousand a year to be the Consulting Head of Physics for the R&D Department,” said Pepper, “your budget would be up to Tony, which means you could bankrupt the company, and he would keep stamping your invoices. You will have a private lab that connects to Tony’s, and you can have two assistants you chose yourself. As you don’t want medical insurance, we’ll match your pension contributions for the first nine percent of your salary that you allocate.”

Bruce blinked a few times and said, “Where do I sign?”

“I will have the contract for you tomorrow,” said Pepper. “The contracts Tony did are pretty good at first pass. There needs to be tighter language because SHIELD can’t be trusted. That’s the problem with spies.” She focused on the papers, taking sips and bites intermittently.

Bruce rolled up his pants and sat on the edge of the pool. “Tony,” he said softly.

“Why don’t you get in with us?” asked Tony. 

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Just take off your pants,” said Tony. Then he smiled, “That won’t be the last time I say that to you.” Then he added, “Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Bruce gave him a gentle smile, “It’s not that easy to make me uncomfortable.” He didn’t move to take his pants off, which was a shame. “I’m sorry about staring. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, either. It wasn’t shock; I knew you had it. It was analytical. I forgot for a second that it was your body. I was just staring because I knew you had miniaturized it. And I saw it in your suit, but that’s not the same as seeing it functioning as a true medical device. That’s amazing, Tony. But I know how distressing it is to be studied for medical things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s mutilation, it’s hard to look away,” said Tony, keeping his voice down, aware of the kids.

“It’s not mutilation,” Bruce protested.

“I’m missing a lump of my breast bone, and I’m covered in scars. I am, by definition, mutilated.”

Bruce sighed, “You talked about how great it was to see some of our colleagues naked. I’m sure they thought so too.”

“I didn’t take my shirt off,” said Tony. “We preach body positivity to these kids so much that I take off my shirt off with them, but this is private. The only public photo of it was taken by a man who then went to prison for criminal stalking. People I spend a night with don’t see it. Family, the X-Men and the people in the room when Win was born, they saw it. The Avengers are the first relative strangers to see it.”

“I’m sorry for how we reacted,” said Bruce.

“It’s okay. People will always stare at mutilation. That’s exactly why I cover it. I wasn’t surprised. I had forgotten. The kids make me unselfconscious, so I forgot I wasn’t wearing a shirt.” 

Kitty swam over and said, “Mr. Stark, can I use your knees as a springboard, please? The real one is too high.”

“Of course you may,” agreed Tony. 

She scrambled up onto his knees and said, “Hands please.” Tony held out his hands, and she stood up on his knees, using his hands for balance. “When I count to three, let go, ‘kay?”

“Yes,” agreed Tony.

“One, two, three,” she slapped her hands together, jumped slightly, arched her back and dived into the water. It splashed Tony, and Bruce didn’t get away scot-free. 

“Wow,” said Tony. “That was really, really good. Did you make that up yourself?”

“No, Logan taught me. Do you think he’ll be home soon? I miss him.”

“He’ll be home as soon as he can. He misses you too. When I have to Iron Man, I miss Win every minute, and I want to be home. Logan will be back with you the minute he can,” He held out his hands, and she scrambled up his legs again. 

Pepper finished the contracts and shimmied out of her pantyhose and skirt suit and started climbing the stairs to the diving board. “This has always terrified me.”

“Be brave,” Tony called. Then he added, “Boys, come out of the landing zone.” They did, and he said, “When you’re ready, Pep.”

She looked over the platform and said, “Why is this so high?”

“Mr. Jarvis used to go off it twice a day when he was in his eighties.”

“Mr. Jarvis also snuck his Jewish wife out of Nazi Hungary with nothing but forged papers and hope. I’m not half as brave as Mr. Jarvis was.” She shook her head, “I’m gonna have to do a run-up.”

“Your Grandad Edwin was an amazing man, Win,” said Tony. “He was a good, kind, loving person, and I know he would have adored you.”

Pepper sighed loudly and said, “Just do it.” She back up and then ran off the platform, getting into the right position just before hitting the water. The splash was epic. 

Tony laughing, looking at Bruce, who was now thoroughly wet, said, “Don’t you kind of wish you had taken off your pants?”

“They’re actually your pants,” Bruce said. 

Tony laughed and clapped for Pepper as she came up to the surface. “I’m not half the man Mr. Jarvis was. I always think I’m going to enjoy it,” she said.

“Daddy, you do your flip,” said Edwin, smiling.

“I would, honey, but I’m still sore from superheroing yesterday, and if I hit the water wrong, pool time will be over, and I have to go to a doctor. But,” he as looked around, he spoke conspiratorially, “Now that there are more grownups paying attention, I can play and not be a lifeguard.” He pushed off the edge and caught Hank around the waist. “Want a boost jump?” Hank nodded, and Tony trod water and linked his hands together for Hank to step into. “Tell me when.” 

Hank found his balance and said, “When.” Tony pushed up, lifting Hank out of the water as the boy jumped, getting great height. 

They were still playing having fun when JARVIS said, “Sir, Logan is calling your phone. Shall I answer it and tell him you’ll call him back momentarily?”

“I hate the phone system in this house. Yes, J, do that.” Tony pushed himself out of the pool, drying off fast. “Where is my phone, J?” 

“You left it in your pants pocket in your bedroom.” 

“Okay, kids, you need dry hands and dry faces to speak on the phone,” he said and headed out to get his phone. Luckily, he didn’t meet any of the other Avengers on his way, so he got there faster. He touched Logan’s name, and the man answered on the first ring. 

“JARVIS says my children aren’t in bed,” said Logan, by way of greeting.

Logan’s relationship with the children was sweet. They had both come to the school as babies. Hank had been born different, and his father, a man who worked with radiation, blamed himself for his mutation. He and his wife had abandoned him at the school. Bizarrely, they thought that was best for their child, that somehow having nothing to do with him — leaving his with strangers — was kinder than raising him in a loving home with normal-looking parents. It made no sense to Tony. Kitty’s parents had been murdered for being mutant rights advocates. The cops had illegally tested the baby for the mutant gene, looking for a motive for the murder. Finding the gene, they hit a problem, the foster system didn’t want to place a “potential threat” with parents, and so she had come to the school, a ward of the state. 

As babies, they had been raised communally, but they had both latched on to Logan, maybe it was just his calm, relaxed manner, perhaps they had found his straightforwardness comforting. Whatever the reason, they’d clung to him. At first, he had been confused. Then, last year, the courts had made noises about having such young children, neither of whom had powers, at a school with untrained mutants. It cumulated in Logan fighting tooth and nail to adopt them. The children didn’t call him Dad, but they seemed to cling less, surer of their place at his side and frequently in his bed. He no longer worried about his claws because he too had become used to them climbing in. Though they were a very unique family, they were happy. 

“It’s their first sleepover, and they’re both heartsick for you. I’m hoping to get them to sleep through the night. They asked if you’ll be home in the morning to bring them home.” Tony sat down on the edge of his bed, aware of his damp swimsuit.

“We are flying home right now. We land at six AM, according to Scott. I thought I would shower and head to you.”

“They will love that.”

“Are they having a good night?”

“It’s been dress up, arts and crafts, eating, special tattoos and the pool: it’s Christmas. Peter and Win built a pillow fort on Win’s bed for them to sleep in.”

“Has Pete recovered from his ligament tear last week?”

“His rate of healing is shocking.”

“Do spiders heal?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” said Tony. 

“How’s Win’s behavior? Any improvement?” 

“I told him we’re going home to Malibu, and he perked right up: all please and thank yous, smiles and laughter. He ate his dinner without bitching about it and demanding changes to his plate.”

“You’re moving back?” he sounded shocked.

“Have you seen any of the footage of New York?”

“No, not yet, hear it was a shitshow.”

“Understatement. I thought we would be living in this house for a few weeks. But the tower is going to need so much work. I don’t want to be here anymore than he does. I’d already stocked the kitchen in the tower, ready to bolt out of this house. This isn’t me bending to his whims, I want out. We’re going home. But he and Pete need their vinegar volcano to dry, and I need to do a few things, then we’re fleeing back to the West Coast. He misses the ocean; I miss my robots. We’re going home.”

“Thank you for having them tonight. I heard you got pretty injured, we’ve only been getting patchy updates. Are you okay?”

“I was dead, but I’m okay now.”

“You were dead?” asked Logan.

Tony sighed, “Do me a favor: watch the press conference. I’m done talking about it. I’m okay; I’m sore. The Avengers are nice enough. They’re going to be moving into the tower, so that will be interesting. Bruce Banner is very handsome in person… It’s been a weird couple of days. Having the kids over is a joy. You raised them well.”

Logan laughed, “Y’know, I was really looking forward to this. I planned on coming for dinner, just to enjoy their playdate and spend some time with you. I’m jealous.”

“I’ll have J send the highlights to your phone. Someone was mean to Hank at the supermarket today, he was very nervous about coming into the house with the Avengers here. He thought they might be mean, so he needs a little TLC when you come home.”

“Thank you for the heads up. Can I please talk to my kids now?”

Tony stood and headed back down. “Yeah, I’m adding back time to the pool clock for this.”

“Please don’t, my kids are gonna need naps tomorrow and then have meltdowns while claiming they’re too big for naps.”

“Turnabout is fair play. When Win sleeps over at the mansion, you can do something I find irritating.” He walked into the pool and saw that Kitty and Hank sitting at the table, legs swinging impatiently. “Should I put you on speaker?”

“Yes, please.” 

Tony put the phone on the table between the kids, and they chorused, “Hi, Logan, we miss you.”

“I miss you both so much, I’ve been counting the seconds. I’m going to land at the mansion in the morning. I’m gonna shower, put on clean clothes and come right to you at Win’s house.”

“Really?” said Kitty, excited. 

“Logan, we’ve never been apart this long,” said Hank.

“One time, when you were two, I have to go away for a whole week. Scott and Jean looked after you.”

“I don’t remember that,” said Kitty.

“You were little. We all hated it at the time, I hate remembering it. But, this time, you got to have a sleepover. Mr. Stark was telling me all about it. It sounds like you’re having so much fun. Mr. Stark said you guys did crafts and got special tattoos.” The kids started to regale him with the news of the day. After a little while, he said, “Sounds great. Now, I know you’ve been having fun. But it’s bedtime. It’s time to get into PJs, and Mr. Stark will get you glasses of water read you all a bedtime story.”

“But, JARVIS is timing our pool time,” protested Hank.

“I know, but Mr. Stark made a little mistake. He didn’t realize that your bedtime is earlier than Win’s. Win’s not in school yet, so he doesn’t go to bed as early as you. And even though it’s the weekend, your body is telling you to go to sleep, so I’m telling you too. It’s two and a half hours past your bedtime.”

“What? We’re a half-hour past Win’s bedtime,” said Tony. 

“And now you understand why I was so shocked about my kids not being in bed, Tony.”

“Sorry, Logan. Win, jump out the pool, please.”

“I love you both,” said Logan, “and I will see in in the morning.”

“Promise?” asked Kitty.

“Promise, promise,” replied Logan in an obvious familial call and response. “Sleep tight.”

“Night night,” the kids responded.

Tony took the phone and helped Win dry off, saying, “J, please send Logan all the good stuff from this evening. He shouldn’t miss out just because Mr. Lehnsherr is an idiot and ruins nice things.”

“Magneto’s the worst,” said Hank.

“He is,” agreed Tony. 

“I want him to go to prison forever,” said Kitty.

“Me too,” Tony agreed. “So, you guys bring glasses of water to bed?”

“Yes,” said Hank. 

“Okay, I’ll sort those out, why don’t you guys go put on your PJs, brush your teeth and pick out a short book,” he said as Win was now dry. The kids left, and he said, “So far, so good.”

“Wait until two AM,” said Natasha, harkening back to Clint’s words. 

He laughed and went into the kitchen, pouring out two glasses of water. Edwin never brought a glass of water to bed. Upstairs they were all in PJs and in the pillow fort. Peter had constructed it to include one of the bedside tables. He asked Jarvis to dim the lights, and only the Christmas tree lights inside the tent remained. He read them the story of Daniel, the obstinate horse who didn’t like running in races but saved the whole town from a fire by swiftly fetching the only fireman in the land. He kissed them each on the forehead and said, “If you need anything in the night, tell JARVIS and he’ll tell me. And if you want to sleep in my bed later, that’s okay too. Now, go to sleep. Because the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner the morning will come, and Logan will come, and you guys can play a little more and have breakfast. Okay?” They all nodded, “Christmas tree lights on or off?”

“Can they be down a little?” asked Hank. JARVIS dimmed them. 

“Good?” asked Tony.

“Look at my tattoo,” said Edwin, holding out his wrist. It was glowing faintly. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” agreed Tony. “Is the light good for everyone?” They all nodded, and he said, “Good, now go to sleep.” He climbed out of their tent and shut the bedroom door behind him. “Give them ten minutes to chat before being a grownup and stepping in and telling them to go to sleep, J.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the AI.

“I’m not ready for Edwin to grow up,” said Tony as he went into his own room and swapped his swimsuit for sweats and a thick, dark tank top that blocked out the light in his chest.

“I hardly think that a sleepover at the age of four is a milestone,” said JARVIS.

“You’re wrong,” said Tony. “This is years in the making, he’s no longer in my bed. He might not ever be in my bed again. He’s growing up.”

“Perhaps it’s time to have another child,” said JARVIS.

Tony laughed, “That’s as likely as us getting a dog. I had a perfect baby, I’m not going to gamble and get a jerk who makes life hard. Imagine if I had a kid who was as much of a jerk as Edwin’s been recently but all the time. Nope. One and done. I had a perfect baby, he’s become an awesome kid, I just need him to stay this age forever.” 

“But then he’ll never be a full science bro, he’ll never be a fulfilled human being,” JARVIS said. 

“Wow, I didn’t think it was possible to bring me down further, good job, J, impressive.”

“I apologize, Sir, Ms. Potts has finished with the contracts and asks that you come to the kitchen.”

“Start my coffee, J, the grownups are going to want my company for a while longer.” He went down and got to the coffee and took a long sip before turning his attention to the room. “So, how bad are the contracts?”

“You did a good job of trimming out the junk. I just tightened things.” She started going over the documents, explaining the changes. Everyone agreed with them. Then she pulled out a file from her oversized purse. “I have the contracts for your likeness rights. These give you control over how your face is used and make it so that you have instant access to lawyers if someone uses your face on something you don’t like. This also says that the Maria Stark Foundation has exclusive rights to your toys, posters and clothing lines. You have veto rights on everything, and nothing will be produced without you signing off on it. MSF makes no money off it. The charity of your choice receives ninety percent of the profits, you get the other ten. You can up your percentage if you like — you can have it all. But, unless you want more money than you can spend, you don’t need to. It also says that the Foundation can give away the products themselves. That means that, if they get contacted by a hospital that doesn’t have a well-stocked dress-up box or enough toys in their playroom, the Foundation can send them toys free of charge. The Foundation gives away truckloads of toys at Christmas. Neither you, nor your charity, get money but the Foundation outright loses money. You can take these to a lawyer, feel free to read them over. They’re exactly the same as Tony’s and every other superhero’s that the Foundation represents. But, absolutely feel free to look them over. And if you aren’t into it, we can still buy your likeness rights just to make sure you don’t have your face slapped on anything you don’t like. A poster with something like, ‘Captain America is a real hero: he would never support this law. Vote for so and so.’ We will shut that down.”

“Do you have a list of possible charities?” asked Steve.

“Most people just pick one associated with kids,” said Tony. “Most of the profits come off the toys, so why not keep it in the same vein? Off the top of my head,” he started listing children’s charities, counting off thirty on his fingers. Then he said, “And if none of those work for you, just leave the ninety percent with the Foundation. The foundation mainly focuses on research and education. Sleep on it.”

Clint took one from Pepper and glanced at it, signing the bottom, and writing quickly, speaking aloud, “Foundation for the Protection of at Risk Minors.”

“How do you want to get paid?” asked Pepper.

“By check. I don’t like direct deposit.”

“Every other week, once a month or quarterly?” she asked.

“It wouldn’t be a big check if it was every other week,” said Clint with a laugh.

Tony shook his head, “Clint, this is going to push you up a tax bracket or two. I do the quarterly, but if you have a car payment, it’s worth doing every other week.”

“Okay,” said Clint, ticking boxes. He pushed it back to Pepper. 

“Tony mentioned the Foundation for the Protection of at Risk Minors before,” said Bruce. “What is it?”

“A watchdog organization that aims to improve the foster system and keeps children’s homes to a certain standard,” said Clint. “They make sure kids are in good homes and get all the medical attention they need. That they’re treated well and are healthy. If it had existed when I was little, we wouldn’t have run away.”

Tony retrieved a stack of the tattoos and said, “Who wants a tattoo?” He applied one of the dated glow-in-the-dark tattoos to his wrist and said, “I’m taking a cute photo for what Steve calls, ‘the internets.’ No faces, just wrists. Who wants to be in it with me?” Natasha rolled her eyes and held her hand out. Tony quickly applied hers. “Thanks, ‘Tasha.” Bruce held out his wrist. “Good man,” Tony said and applied his. “This is a good step in making the Avengers nice, not a threat.” Everyone accepted a tattoo, and he said, “Pep, you too.” He applied them all and said, “Arms in, make it a circle.” He held his phone above their hands and took a photo. “Does anyone have an Instagram account other than Pepper?” Clint just raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to need them, again, wanting to be the approachable helpers. Logan has one.”

“But Logan’s a dad, right?” asked Steve. “It’s not the same.”

“Logan is Wolverine; he’s an X-Man. All the X-Men have Twitter and Instagram accounts. Personal branding makes them less scary.”

“Their dad is Wolverine?” asked Steve. “The man with the claws?”

Tony nodded, “They both came to the school, separately, as babies. Logan — Wolverine — adopted them. That’s why they’re stressed about him not being here. It’s not sleepover stress; it’s our-parent-is-a-dangerous-situation stress. But, their dad is immortal, so it’s mostly just heartsickness.” Tony opened the app on his phone and quickly wrote. “I was dead yesterday, but the custom tattoos I got made for Win’s sleepover were dated, so it had to be today. @WolverineX, we wish you were here. @VPotts and I are hanging out with the #Avengers and the kids are in bed. Time for a little quiet.” Then he posted the picture of the kids in the pillow fort, their silhouettes so clearly outlined. “My three favorites had a great night. There were multiple rounds of dress-up, two different arts and crafts projects, pool time, tattoos and a dinner no one turned their nose up at. Now, they’re sleeping in a pillow fort Win and my fav intern @MrPBParker built. #RoughDayFunNight.” 

He got an instant mention from Peter’s account. This new post read, “Please note, I’m @IAmIronMan’s only intern. But, gosh, that fort looks even better in use. #DidntKnowICouldArchitect #LookAtThatLighting #ScienceBrosBuildStuff.” Tony hit the heart button and said, “That’s our social marketing for the night.”

“Does the Salvation Army still exist?” asked Steve. 

“Yeah, they’re brutally homophobic though,” said Clint. “They hate gay people.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “I ate a lot of meals in their mission after my mom died… things were tight. I liked the sermons they gave during the meals.”

“Steve, it’s your money. They’re a respected organization, if you want to give it to them, that’s up to you,” said Tony. “Yes, they support homophobic causes, but if you turned up and said, ‘I’m gay, and I’m hungry,’ they would give you a meal.”

“Who is a kind organization that feeds the poor?” he asked, studying his hands. 

“Feeding Families,” said Tony and Clint at the same time. 

“They send backpacks home on Fridays with kids who otherwise might be hungry over the weekend,” said Tony. “They’re good.”

“Okay,” said Steve and filled in the form. He handed it back, saying, “I don’t have a bank account though.”

“Easily solved,” said Tony. He tapped the table, the surface turned white.

“The table is a computer?” asked Bruce.

Tony smiled, “If you’re in a room I furnished for myself, assume everything is a computer.” He did a quick Google, pulling up a list of different banks, their account types and bonuses. “Here, Steve.”

Steve read through them and pointed, “That one.”

Tony talked him through the process and said, “How has SHIELD been paying you?”

Steve blushed, “I got a check, but I just kept it in my wallet. I was handed petty cash… I haven’t needed to deposit it yet.” 

Tony thought again how hard it must have been to be in entirely the wrong time. “Well, it’s easy to deposit, now that we set up your account.” He talked Steve through mobile banking and said, “Keep your check for five days, then destroy it.” He smiled, “Would you like me to set up a direct deposit for this?” he said, tapping the toy contract. “That way, you don’t even have to think about it.”

“That would be swell, how do I do that?” Tony walked him through that, and Steve said, “Thanks, Tony. That’s helpful.”

“You won’t get a check for the merchandise until we have merchandise though. Put me in your phone so that I can message you with pictures of prototypes while you’re road-tripping.” Then he said, “Thor, when are you coming back? Do you have an email address?”

“Nay, send it to my fair Lady Jane. I do not know when I shall be on Midgard, but she can give approval on my behalf.”

“If you would like to name her proxy,” said Pepper, pointing, “Just fill out this section.”

“Thor, do you have a bank account?” asked Tony. “You’re an alien.”

“The Son of Coul created it for me, it has a number I memorized.”

“Great, you can do direct deposit too,” said Tony. They all gave their contracts back to Pepper. 

“Now, Tony and designers can tinker,” said Pepper.

“If there is something you don’t want or if you specifically want to ask for something, we can do that too,” said Tony.

“Win will want a line of teddies,” pointed out Pepper.

That was true. The Iron Teddy was now mass-produced. “I’ll start on the teddy line before he even asks,” said Tony. “I do like the teddies, right up there with the costumes. Nothing is cuter than a toddler dressed as Rogue cuddling a Human Torch teddy. Regular sized teddies for Bruce, ‘Tasha and Clint, larger ones for Steve and Thor and then a bigger green one for Hulk.”

“So I get two bears?” asked Bruce.

“We call them teddies. Bear is cold teddy is sweet,” said Tony. “Both sides of your personality serve vital roles for the Avengers. You’re the scientist and the big gun. You get two teddies.”

“I want a red-furred teddy, but not firetruck red,” said Natasha.

“I figured, close, curly red fur,” agreed Tony. 

“Yes, please.”

To the rest, he said, “There are two versions of the teddies. One is really fancy, really high quality, expensive to make and expensive to buy. The other is nice, good quality and much, much more affordable. Rich kids and grownups buy the fancy ones, the others are for everyone else. They’re still great, but they aren’t mohair with articulated shoulders, hips and heads. Edwin’s are beautiful, but they’re too expensive to make to not be expensive to buy, and super teddies should be available to all kids. I’ll have you sign off on both of them.” Then he said, “You guys want to play around with your floors?” They all nodded, and Tony tapped the table and pulled up the basic floor plan for each floor, identical. With quick hand motions, he sent copies to the area in front of each person. Looking at it, he said, “Walls can be shifted, everything needs to be fixed so shifting walls won’t be hard as long as they aren’t supporting walls.”

“And we can change stuff on here? ‘Cause the table is a computer?” asked Steve. 

“He wasn’t joking, Steve: every flat surface near Tony is a computer,” said Pepper.

“I thought that we would draw it out on paper,” said Steve.

“You can if you like,” said Tony, “This is better though, you can look at all your options and move stuff easily.”

“I don’t think I need three extra bedrooms,” said Steve.

“Steve, you’re going to go to the VA, you’ll meet people. You’ll end with two drunk eighty-five-year-olds in your living room, reminiscing about the fun parts of the war that the history books don’t talk about and the hard parts of the war that society won’t talk about and it’ll be one in the morning, and you’ll ask them to stay because it’s too late for a cab and they will. Or you’ll meet a bunch of young vets dealing with PTSD, and they’ll get drunk, in your living room as you talk about the friends you lost during your wars. You’ll have new friends, Steve, it’ll just take a little while. You don’t have to keep the bedrooms if you don’t want, but it’s your home, and you should have room for the people you pick as family.” Tony shrugged, “But that’s just my thoughts. Yours might be different. Win and my penthouse has five bedrooms. You can have whatever you like.” 

“A home,” repeated Steve.

“Let me show you how this works,” Tony walked them through the touch screen, showing them that by touching the design, they could change the internal dimensions, the layout, allow them to pick flooring, paints, wallpapers, carpets, bathroom features, kitchen styles, blinds, sconces, furniture. 

They were all having fun, but Steve said, worriedly, “Tony, how much is this going to cost?”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” said Tony, “SHIELD is paying for your lodgings.”

“SHIELD isn’t going to cover this,” said Steve.

“I’m a billionaire, and this is what I like spending on, this is fun for me, Steve. Come on, play: make your dream home.”

“I don’t want it to be lavish.”

“Because you don’t want it to spend my money or because you don’t want that?”

“Little of the former, a lot of the latter. If I make a dream house, I don’t want a table like this. I don’t want marble, a TV. I want a wireless and black and white tiles in the bathroom and a warm bed and a stove that has gas and a comfy couch and heating that doesn’t make weird noises. That’s a dream home.” He seemed to be getting more agitated.

“‘Tasha, you know how touch screens work, switch with Steve.” She slid her floor plan over to Steve’s chair, and his bounced to her spot. “We’ll do this together, Steve. It’s not very hard, but you should be having fun, not getting anxious.” Steve came and sat in Natasha’s seat next to Tony. “So, first, let’s set up the floorplan.” 

They shifted the things around, Steve spoke very softly, clearly intending only Tony to hear, “I have screaming nightmares, I don’t want guests to hear.”

“The walls are soundproof, but we can set it up however you like, you don’t have to justify or explain it to me.” Tony showed him how to shift them. 

Thinking for a moment, he said, “Soldiers move in pairs… three guest rooms.” He dragged them around carefully.

Steve started to pick paints and floors, and Tony said, “Would you like a drafting table in your living room?”

Steve smiled, “That’d be swell, yeah.” Tony scrolled through a picture list, and Steve said, “That one,” at an old fashioned wooden one. Tony was glad that it didn’t have any prices. It looked quite basic, but it was beautiful and vintage and was more expensive than the others. Tony ticked it off. 

“What about a drop-down screen? You would never see it but — if you wanted to watch an old movie — it would be there. Or if there was some big emergency, you could see the news? But it wouldn’t be in the room for you to have to see all the time.”

“That’d be great too.”

Tony made changes, and people were all laughing and talking, making changes, having fun. Pepper was doing her own paperwork and chatting happily so Tony could focus on Steve, but Steve had gotten the hang of the program. Tony tried to talk him into a California king bed, but Steve protested. “Tony, I never even had a full before I woke up from the ice. Don’t make me have a giant bed, a queen is more than big enough.” Again he spoke softly. “The mattresses are so soft… I had forgotten. Army cots ain’t like that. I keep thinking I’ll sink right through to the floor. Please, don’t make my bed so foreign… I have a hard enough time sleeping. I keep switching to the floor.”

Tony nodded, and then, softly, he said, “You should go to the VA, Steve, talk about this. Shell shock is called PTSD nowadays, and it’s not viewed as failing. It’s a medical problem that is almost inevitable after facing combat. They can help you sleep in a real bed.”

Steve nodded, “Okay, I need an address.”

Tony pulled up Google again and typed in “VA mental health locations New York.” Two popped up, and Tony said, “That one’s in walking distance from here.” Allowing Steve to think about it, Tony turned to Bruce he said, “What are you doing for Hulk’s rooms?”

“Drunk tank pink, with baby blue woodwork and painted clouds. I’m picking out oversized stuffed toys now.” There was also an elevated platform bed with heavily reinforced legs that looked impressive.

“Did you change the door dimensions?”

“Yes, I also turned his rooms into a railroad set-up, he likes moving forward. It’s better than having hallways. And the layout means he has a direct shot from my room to his, in case a nightmare sets him off.”

“Good idea,” agreed Tony. Thor showed off his plan, all gold and indoor fountains. Tony whispered to Steve, “If it makes you feel better, Thor’s floor is going to cost ten times as much as yours.” That made Steve chuckle. They were all semi decorated — barring additional furniture they would buy from flea markets, make their own, and art that they would pick — after two hours. “I used to use all these interior designers and let Pep pick all the art. And then Win was on his way and, suddenly, picking out his things was so much fun. Pepper and I painted his nursery with our own hands.”

“It’s sort of streaky in spots,” said Pepper. “But it was fun. Of course, the fact that he slept in his crib only for naps makes the effort we put into that room sort of absurd.”

“It was fun. I never cared before then: give me an intuitive layout and good bedsheets, and I was good to go. My workshop was what mattered to me. But then I had to worry about Win's comfort, I had to learn to cook because he told everyone I was good at it and would ask me to feed him. And then I found out it was all fun. I picked everything on our floors, except for Pep, Rhodey and Happy’s rooms, and Win helped, of course. I spent hours picking everything for our new kitchen. There were no designers involved.”

“That’s why the sconces you picked are so incongruous,” said Pepper.

“We like them.”

“You picked ship light sconces to go in your ultra-modern penthouse and filled it with midcentury furniture and pop art and superhero kitsch.”

Tony nodded, grinning, “Our new, beautiful home. I designed my home in Malibu to be nothing like this house, and I let other people decorate it in a way the old bastard would have hated, and my mother would have raised an eyebrow at. This time, I made a home for us that fits like a second skin with a perfectly laid out kitchen, because that matters now.”

“There’s also a pool with multiple slides,” said Pepper. 

“That’s a floor down, not actually in the penthouse, it’s above Bruce’s floor.” He sighed, “Pep, Pete’s still fighting me about moving in.” It came out as a whine.

“Give him time. And leave his floor open,” she said. “You still have one empty floor before the research levels.”

“It should be yours,” said Tony.

“I have a bedroom in yours, I don’t need one of my own. And before you say it, Happy and Rhodey also have rooms in yours.”

He nodded, “You’re right. It’s so obvious, really, Peggy and Sharon need a floor. I don’t want her in a home, and it would be so much better than Sharon trying to take care of her. She can have a private nursing staff when it becomes necessary, and she can spend so much time with Win. Having her grandson right here, to cuddle with and bake with would be a boon to her.”

“That would be a huge draw,” conceded Pepper, “If you throw in that Captain Rogers will be living here? That’s a bonus she’ll like.”

“I want a floor near Peggy, so that we can have tea every morning,” said ‘Tasha.

Pepper nodded. “Phil, Thor, Clint, you, Peggy, Steve, Bruce, Pete, athletic, penthouse. No one is afraid of heights, right? Phil will be the closest to the ground at one thousand two hundred feet.” That made them all laugh, “I had to check.”

“I couldn’t tell if it was taller than the Empire State Building,” said Steve. “The perspective makes it difficult.” 

“One thousand, three hundred and thirty feet,” said Pepper. “So, we are — but only by eighty feet.”

“Five hundred and ten feet taller than Oscorp, six hundred feet taller than Roxxon and Cord and seven hundred and seven feet taller than Rand,” boasted Tony.

“They don’t care about our pissing contest with our competitors, Tony,” said Pepper. Then she smiled, “But it is the tallest building in New York, and that is something to brag about.” 

“C’mon, Pep, it’s fun that we’re taller than our competitors.”

She nodded, “I agree, I pushed hard to make sure we dwarfed them. I’m just saying that the Avengers don’t care about the height of four other buildings.”

Thor had finished with his floor, and he hugged them each in turn and bowed to Pepper, “My friends, I must return to Asgard. I shall bring my brother to face justice. The tesseract will be placed deep within our vault.”

“Let me call you a cab,” said Tony.

“Nay, my friend. I prefer, on my own, to travel by flight.” He swung Mjolnir. “I shall return. The fair Lady Jane has one of your cellular phones. When I return, I shall have her contact you to learn where my friends reside.”

“Sounds good,” agreed Tony, before leading him out. At the front door, he said, “When you come back, your home away from home should be completed.” 

“You are a great man, Tony. You open your home so quickly and generously to us. Your charity is humbling and speaks to your integrity of spirit.” 

“We’re all on the same team, Thor, teams always back each other.” Thor whipped his hammer through the air and shot into the air. Tony watched him for a few moments, marveling at the man.

He walked back into the kitchen, and Steve said, “He’s a very odd man.”

“Steve, you’re a guy from the forties. Bruce’s mental condition has his own body, Natasha was a Russian baby spy, Clint’s a carnie and I have a battery in my chest. Thor is not that odd in this group. In general, sure he’s odd. But, you don’t really have room to call him odd. Pepper does. Pep?”

She thought and said, “Really, I think the odd one out is me. I’m just a very boring, middle of the road, pretty enough businesswoman in a room full of superheroes. That’s odd. Thor’s charming.”

“You’re stunning, Pep, I agree with you that you’re the odd one out, but you’re not ‘pretty enough.’ You’re gorgeous,” said Tony. She smiled at him. To Steve, he said, “So there you go: the civilian doesn’t think he’s weird.” 

Steve smiled and then said, “This wireless.” Steve showed him, “This is lovely.”

“Then that is what you shall have,” said Tony. “You need a record player too, our news channels are okay, and the talk radio, but you want the old music.” He opened up record player options. 

Steve said, “I feel badly: this is your money.”

“Win’s great-great-grandchildren won’t need to work. Don’t worry about my money: spend at will.”

They played some more, Staring to decorate Phil’s floor for him, a metric ton of superhero memorabilia going into it. Pepper said, “Do any of the empty spare rooms have pillows, or are they all on Win’s bed?”

“They probably didn’t take the pillows off Sharon’s bed. If they did, take half of mine,” he said. “Are you going to bed?”

“Yeah, between Malibu, New York, D.C. and New York again, I’m exhausted.”

Tony stood, “Let me carry your bag up. We’ll find you some pillows.” 

In the hall, he started to reach for her bag, but she said, “Don’t, you’re still hurting.” She picked it up. “If there are pillows on Sharon’s bed, I’ll just crash there.” He still followed her up. Sharon’s bed was made, and she had only slept in it one night. Tony shut the door behind them, and Pepper said, “Tony, I’m exhausted.”

“He’s too pretty to be real,” said Tony. He flopped down on the bed. “Will you be the maid of honor at our wedding?”

She laughed, “Tony, even if he’s gay, I doubt a man born in the twenties will marry a man.”

“Steve?” said Tony. He propped himself up on his elbows as she sat down next to him. “No. Eww, white bread? No. I don’t want him, not even a little bit. I’m marrying Bruce my-kid-loves-him-and-he’s-got-that-pretty-smile-and-curls-and-he’s-just-so-much-fun Banner.”

“Do you think Bruce too-pretty-to-be-a-scientist Banner might marry you?” She stroked the hair off his forehead.

“He smiles when I flirt,” said Tony. “He wants to science with me. He likes my kid.”

“Okay, well, walk before you can run. You haven’t dated since before Win. You’ve never, ever considered marriage so let’s slow it down,” She kicked off her shoes and lay down next to him.

“Yeah, I’ve kind of forgotten how romance works,” agreed Tony. 

“You knew how romance works? When did you know this? You have never acted like you knew how romance works,” she said teasingly.

“No, I totally understood it, once. What if I gave you a note, and it just read, ‘Do you like Tony?’ with little yes and no checkboxes?”

She started laughing, “You really like him?”

“I really want to see him naked,” said Tony. “And not even the seductive version of naked. I’m talking six AM, prior to brushing his teeth or washing his face sort of naked.” He thought of his kid having a sleepover with his friends across the hall while Tony lay in a bed talking about boys with his friend.

“Well, I’m not your Personal Assistant anymore. Maybe get Win to hand over the note.”

“Nah, Win would read the note and get excited before anything happened and upset if it doesn’t go well. When I seduce Bruce Banner and have filthy sex with him on every surface, I don’t want Win to be sad if it doesn’t end well. And if it does end well, he’s going to be the cutest ring bearer ever.”

“He will freak if Dr. Bruce Banner becomes his other dad,” said Pepper. 

“He’s way too hot, right?”

She stretched and rolled onto her side. “He’s actually quite boring looking compared to the greater majority of the people you’ve dated.”

“You haven’t seen him bashfully cleaning his glasses to buy time. You haven’t seen him playing with Win or talking about science. If you had, you’d be throwing your underwear at him.”

“He wouldn’t want my underwear: I swam in them, and I need to do laundry.” He laughed, and she said, “Tony, go back to your guests… I need to sleep, and you need to seduce Bruce.” 

Tony kissed her forehead before sitting up, “Sleep well, Pep.” 

“Night, Tony,” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, Steve woke and went down to the pool to swim laps, the very early morning sun poured through the stained glass, making it beautiful. He swam for an hour before it was fully light. He dried off and pulled on a shirt, wrapping the towel around his waist. He said, “JARVIS, I’m going to go to the kitchen. May I please have coffee?”

“Certainly, Captain Rogers. I shall start it immediately after Sir’s coffee has completed.”

“Tony’s awake?” 

“He is,” agreed the machine voice.

Steve really appreciated the help Tony had given him yesterday and how welcoming he had been. He went to the kitchen and saw the man in disarray. “Hey,” said Tony. “I thought J was going senile when the coffee machine started up.”

“No, I just finished laps.”

Tony nodded, “I’m not an early riser, but I just woke up with three kids in my bed. Kitty was on top of my back. I don’t have great lung capacity, so I got up.” He shrugged. “Besides, Logan will be here soon.”

“Actually, Sir, Logan has just opened the gate. I asked him not to ring the bell because of the noise,” said the computer.

“Great,” Tony raised his mug in a cheers, “Be right back.”

Steve heard him in the hall, voice warm, inviting the man in. “So, my kids are still asleep?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure when they got into my bed, but all three of them were there when I woke up.”

“My kids are ninjas. I wake up with at least one of them in my bed nine days out of ten. I don’t know when they get in with me.” 

“I’m so used to Win kicking me all night long, I wouldn’t notice if an elephant climbed in with me,” said Tony. They walked into the kitchen, and Tony said, “Steve, Logan. Logan, Steve.” The coffee machine ticked on, and Tony picked up the children’s painted bowls and little clay figures. “Spoils of the night.”

“Joy, yet more artwork… half my time is spent trying to figure out how to deal with their artwork.”

Tony laughed, “Put it in a drawer and tell them that it’s precious and that you put it there to keep it safe. Or put it up in their rooms.” He handed the mug to Logan. The man put a bag on the table and took a sip of his coffee. “What happened with Magneto? We really could have used your help here two days ago.”

“Do you honestly think that if we could be here, we wouldn’t have been? Do you really think a guy whose whole skeleton is coated in metal wants to throw down with a man who can manipulate metal?”

“I wasn’t suggesting for a second that you were shirking,” said Tony.

“Magneto is trying to rouse an army of mutants who are sick of hiding and being treated with fear. They want to make normal people scared. But what does it say that a group of mutants from just New York is able to beat all the people he could recruit? It’s the minority, but it won’t be forever. The more the public treats us like dirt, the more angry people become. They’re trying to push the registration act. They’re trying to make it legal to gene test babies at birth. Unless we can change the tides, we’ll end up with a war. You can only be pressed under someone’s thumb for so long before you snap. Good people who just want to be left alone will break, and they will get violent. You don’t want people with extraordinary abilities to fight politicians and cops with guns. Take Hank, for instance, a sweet little boy who wants to paint and do science and be a doctor. Look at his physical strength, his size. He decides that enough is enough, he decides that bastards who whisper about him in supermarkets and who legislate against his freedom are the enemy: blood in the streets. When they pass those laws, they will be the enemy, and then we have to wait and see if the next generation can swallow it. I would have been here in a heartbeat if I could have been, but we were trying to fight the war most people don’t even know is happening. Hopefully, they never will. Because if normal people realized how angry so many already are, they’d want those laws in place tomorrow. Right now, it’s a fight between the people who want to slow down the laws and the people who want to fight preemptively. Numbers will shift if those laws go into action. Six percent of the population are mutants. With thirty-two million people in this country alone?” he shook his head and sighed, “Those laws pass, and there’s mayhem. All we can do is try to look nonthreatening. And the people Magneto gathered make it so obvious that we’re a threat. The public doesn’t realize that the best thing they could do is embrace us. There’s no conflict except the one normal people are creating.” He seemed exhausted. Feet were falling on the back stairs, fast and heavy, and then all three children were in the kitchen.

“Logan!” exclaimed both his kids, and they rushed to him, each getting an arm wrapped around them. Despite his exhaustion, he beamed at them. Logan pulled them into his lap, one on each knee.

“Hey, guys. Mr. Stark sent me so many pictures that JARVIS took. Last night looked really fun.”

“Look at our art projects,” Hank pulled them close. “Guess whose is whose.”

“Yours has more green, and Kitty’s has more yellow. I know your art.”

“Do you like them?” asked Kitty. 

“I love them. We should put up shelves in your bedrooms so you can show them off.” He cuddled them both to his chest. “I missed you both so much.”

“Did Magneto hurt you?” asked Kitty.

“You know I always get better,” said Logan.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” said Hank.

“It stops hurting when you hug me,” said Logan. They both cuddled closer. “All better.” He kissed them both on the top of the head. “I brought doughnuts and bagels.”

“Yay!” said Win. “The bagels here are so much better than the ones in Malibu.”

“Who wants juice, who wants milk and who wants ice tea?” asked Tony. He moved, flitting around the kitchen, sorting out drinks, plates and butter knives for spreads. 

“Steve, have you had bagels? Were they invented when you were alive?” asked Win.

“Yes, you could get them on the Lower East Side,” said Steve. “I loved them.”

“Us too,” said Hank. Neither he nor Kitty left Logan’s lap. 

“Jewish people invented them,” said Kitty.

“Was it your grandad?” asked Win.

“No, there’s lots of Jewish people,” said Kitty. Then she took a necklace out from under her shirt, “Look at my necklace,” she said, showing it to Steve. 

It was a Star of David, and Steve said, “That’s beautiful.”

“It was Momma’s,” she said and tucked it back in. 

“I had a friend who had a pewter ring with a beautiful Star of David stamped inside it. He fought with me in the war.”

“You beat the Nazis, and they were bad guys,” said Kitty.

“They were terrible. I’m very pleased it’s over,” he said. Logan started sorting out the bagels for all three kids as Tony gathered another round of coffee for the grownups. 

“So,” said Logan, lowly to his kids, “What do we think of the Avengers? Not Steve, you can tell me about Steve later. What are the others like?”

“Well, one’s ‘Tasha. We love ‘Tasha,” said Hank.

“We do love ‘Tasha,” agreed Logan.

“And Clint’s her best friend, and he’s nice, he liked our art projects, and he likes food,” said Hank.

Kitty whispered, “He’s very handsome.” She smiled and blushed, a cute little kid crush. “And Thor’s nice, he’s an alien,” she added.

“He let us try and pick up his hammer,” said Hank. “We couldn’t, but neither could the grownups.” Then he grinned, “And Bruce is Dr. Bruce Banner, and he’s gonna be a science bro.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Logan, playfully sarcastic. “Because you only had the best mechanical engineer, an aerospace engineer, a scientific whiz kid and Win: not enough science.”

“But he’s a nuclear physicist,” said Win. “We didn’t have one of those yet.”

“So this is like baseball cards? You gotta collect ‘em all?” asked Logan.

“Think about it, Logan, we could do anything once we got every different type of scientist,” said Win.

“So, the science bro fraternal order is really just a grassroots think-tank?” asked Logan, teasingly. 

“We’re gonna run the world someday,” said Hank.

“I’m not gonna be a scientist, but do I get t’help?” asked Kitty.

“Yeah, ‘cause we need an artist to document what we’re doing,” said Win with enthusiasm. 

“Good,” said Kitty.

“You want to be an artist?” asked Steve. She nodded enthusiastically. “I studied art in college. I had to take a break and go punch the Nazis, but I’m going to go back and learn more. Maybe you and I can draw together when the boys are doing their science projects.” 

She grinned, “The new labs in Win’s Tower are giant. Maybe we can have an art area.”

“Already done,” said Tony. “My big lab has a whole area for Win, and it’s already got an easel and tons of comfy seats and a beautiful view. We can make tweaks. We’ll ask Steve for advice as he’s an experienced artist. And you guys will play, and he’ll teach you stuff, and you’ll learn together. It’ll be just like the science bros, we have fun and we learn from each other and learn from our work.”

“Now that’d be fun,” said Steve. “You guys are gonna have the best playdates at Win’s Tower. You guys’ll play and swim, and then they can science while we create.”

“That’ll be so much fun,” she agreed.

“I’m excited already,” he smiled at her. 

They ate their bagels, and Win said, “Daddy, Logan, can we play more, please?”

“One more round of dress-up and make-believe,” agreed Logan, “as long as it’s okay with your dad.”

“It’s fine with me,” said Tony. The kids started to get up, and Kitty was taking her plate. “No, Kitty, we eat at the table. Sit down and take your time. There’s time for dress-up afterward.”

“I don’t want you to go too fast anyway,” said Logan, gathering his kids back to his chest. Hank kissed his cheek. Looking at the counter, Logan asked, “Who made Cthulhu?”

“Wade. Peter and he were here for dinner,” said Kitty. “Mr. Stark thought it was Hydra.”

“Nah, way too many tentacles,” said Logan. “It’s obviously Cthulhu.” 

“Is Wade your best friend?” asked Hank, badly faking innocence.

Logan thought about it and said, “Wade’s my favorite Canadian. But he’s not my best friend. It’s either Professor X or Mr. Stark.”

“Wade’s best friend is named Weasel,” Kitty said. “He broke Peter’s kitchen table. Wade says you’re his favorite Canadian, too.”

“We Canadians have to stick together,” said Logan with a fake sageness. 

Kitty held out the last bite of her bagel. “I’m done. Would you like this?”

“Sure, thanks,” said Logan, before popping it into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he said, “You can go play.”

The kids got up, and Tony said, “What do you say?”

“Thank you for breakfast, Logan,” they said fast before rushing off. 

“I think they were worried when Wade said that Weasel was his best friend,” Tony said with a smile.

“Aww, ranking your friends matters so much when you’re young. Then you grow up, and you’re just thrilled if you have a few friends.”

“Rhodey is my best friend,” said Tony fast, “it matters to some grownups.”

“You’ve known him since you were fourteen, and he saved your life when you two created vibranium; he should be your best friend, bub.”

Tony laughed.

“Did you really invent vibranium? Howard said that my shield was all of the vibranium on earth,” said Steve.

“He was always such a braggart,” said Tony shaking his head. “It was about five percent of the world’s available supply. Did he tell you it was stolen? He bought it off an arms dealer. The Wakandan government sued the pants off him. He claimed he didn’t know it was stolen. He was lying. He managed to weasel his way out of it. After I figured out how to synthesize it, I gave the Wakandans back the material times ten… If you meet King T'Chaka, offer to give back the shield. He won’t accept it, but it would be good relations. Anyway, I was dying,” he tapped his chest, “The palladium that powered it was poisoning me. An old video showed Howard had figured out the composition, but he couldn’t make it. Rhodey and I did. It was a little touch and go.” Tony started to collect up plates. Steve held out his own, and Tony sort of faltered. Logan took it from him without actually looking at him and held it out to Tony. 

Over the last couple of days, he had seen the children, Natasha, Pepper, Peter, Bruce and now Logan hand things to Tony. Tony had said yesterday that it wasn’t about attraction. He didn’t know what the criteria were to make it so that Tony would take things from your hands, but whatever they were, Steve clearly hadn’t met them yet. The coffee machine ticked on, and Tony said, “J, who woke up? Was it ‘Tasha or Pepper? I can’t think of anyone else who would ask you to turn on the coffee.” 

“Agent Romanoff is heading down. Captain Rogers asked me to start his coffee for him earlier. I believe it is easier for him to adjust to AI than the others. The whole world is foreign, so I’m no stranger than a dishwasher. The others will adjust.” 

Tony smiled at him, “See, Steve? You are getting into the swing of the future.” Natasha walked in, and Tony took the mug from the coffee machine and handed it to her, “Morning.”

She took it, “Three children are running around, giggling upstairs.”

Tony looked at his watch, “It’s seven AM, ‘Tasha. Be glad it’s not five-thirty. This is why you’re getting your own floor. Logan brought breakfast.”

She smiled sleepily, “Thank you, Logan, your kids are a delight, as always, but it’s so early.”

“I remember when I thought loud noise at seven was a problem,” said Logan. “Now, I’m ecstatic if they let me sleep until six. I brought bagels and doughnuts.”

“Remember when we first met? You didn’t like me much.”

“I was concerned you would be unkind to my children.”

“Now you bring me breakfast,” she said, taking a bite of a doughnut.

“Technically, I brought my kids breakfast. And I’m hanging around ‘cause I want to meet the Norse god of thunder.”

“Ah,” said Tony, “problem.”

“No,” said Logan, “say it ain’t so.”

“He took his brother and the tech back to his planet.”

“Damnit, Tony, I wanted to meet an alien.” 

“Sorry, bub,” said Tony.

“Don’t you ‘bub’ me, bub,” said Logan with a smile. “So, there’s no one interesting for me to meet?”

“Dr. Bruce Banner is here,” said Natasha. “He made us banana pancakes yesterday.”

“No,” said Logan with fake astonishment. Tony and Natasha laughed. “And Win didn’t drop down dead from joy?”

“It was a close thing,” said Tony.

“So, I’m really not going to get to meet an alien?” asked Logan. 

Tony just shook his head, and Natasha said, “You have metal claws that you project from your hands at will. You live in a mansion filled with mutants with incredible powers. How is an alien new?”

Logan shrugged, “Steve, you seem nice. I’m not overwhelming you with questions because I know what it feels like to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the questions are terrible. I was born in 1886, and I’m missing large lumps of my memory, and it sucks when you get quizzed like a specimen. I remember your time, I fought in your war. I always think there’s nothing new under the sun when you get to my age.” He looked at Natasha. “I was alive for the invention of the Ferris Wheel. I haven’t been shocked by technology since microfiche and the sixties. The rest of it seems inevitable. You can put a tiny phone in my pocket, or a robot in the ceiling because it’s just not shocking anymore. But an alien? Now that’s interesting,” he smiled at Natasha.

“Have you seen the Hellicarrier? That blew me away,” said Steve. 

“Imagine you’d been awake and around for the seventy years in the ice. The Hellicarrier isn’t as cool as the zeppelins were.”

“They were beautiful,” agreed Steve.

“Shame you weren’t there for the 1964 World’s Fair,” said Logan. “I think that was when I hit my tolerance for surprise. That was a great fair.” 

“Tony’s been saying,” Steve took a breath. “We were designing our floors in the Tower. I didn’t see a reason to have spare bedrooms. He said I’d make some friends my own age. Maybe one night, when the kids are having a sleepover, we have some beers and talk about the bad old days?”

“Sure, but I’m a hundred and twenty-six, so I’m hardly a friend your own age.”

“Closer than these kids,” said Steve. “You fought in my war.” Logan just laughed at that. 

“I would love to see a drinking contest between you: the man who heals and the guy with the super metabolism,” said Tony. “Russia will run out of vodka before either of you get tipsy.”

“Tones, making it sound like a freak show, it doesn’t sound fun,” said Logan. “I get drunk; I just get sober a minute later.”

“You’re no fun,” said Tony.

“I wish I could get drunk,” said Steve. “So much of my life would have been more palatable if I coulda got drunk.”

Bruce came in, and Logan smiled, “Dr. Bruce Banner, what a pleasure.” Logan stood to shake his hand.

“Your kids are great, Dr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, “Doctor? Tony, I think your science bro just gave me an honorary degree.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bruce looked flustered. “I just assumed — with Hank’s scientific interest.”

“Nah, if it’s true that I’m his driving force, he would grow up to drink a lot of whiskey, smoke a lot of cigars and scowl at ninety-nine percent of the population over the age of twenty-one. I’m not a scientist. I teach history at the school. And it’s not Mr. Logan either: I don’t have a last name… possibly a first name. I don’t remember what part of my name Logan was: memory gaps.”

“Well, your kids are great, and they both think the world of you,” said Bruce. 

Clint stumbled down the stairs and said, “Morning, hey Logan, good to see you.”

“You too.”

“I met your kids: nice.”

“Thanks,” said Logan. 

He went to the coffee machine and looked at it, “How do I get coffee?”

“JARVIS, please make Clint a cappuccino,” said Natasha.

“Of course, Agent Romanoff.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” said Clint.

“My pleasure, Agent Barton.”

Clint yawned widely. “So, the kids made it all night.”

“Yeah, they quietly got into my bed, but no one woke me up asking to go home.”

They were all talking and having a nice time until Logan said, “I’m taking my kids home and claiming a quiet day. I’m exhausted, and hopefully, they are tired after staying up too late. We can do crafts and cuddling. They’re going to get multiple storytime breaks today.”

“Preach,” said Tony. “Win’s getting a quiet day. Peter will be over later. So, maybe between us, we can keep him semi-amused.”

“He’ll get a ballet lesson later,” said Natasha. “There’s a barre in the gym?”

“My mom put one in for her aerobics, back in the day,” said Tony. “He loves dancing with you.”

“I love dancing with him,” said Natasha. “I learned how to dance under very different circumstances. It’s nice to hear giggling in a dance studio.”

“Well, I’d certainly appreciate you wearing him out,” said Tony.

“He’s been pretty excited about doing math with me in the lab,” said Bruce. “I bet we can do some little experiments while you doze on the couch down there.”

“Ballet with Aunt ‘Tasha and physics with Dr. Bruce Banner,” said Tony, “this should get me a little quiet time.”

“Yeah, I might palm my kids off on Remy,” said Logan.

“He very bravely drove your kids here last night. His poor nerves. And he said that people were mean to Hank in the supermarket, but his eyes are a dead giveaway that he is a mutant; I doubt he got away unscathed. He might appear to shrug it off, but he’s only seventeen.”

“Fine, I’ll palm them off on Roxanne,” said Logan.

Tony laughed, “The teens have been handling the littles for three days. Maybe, just maybe, you should see how they’re holding up before picking who you’re going to force to watch your children.” Logan chuckled, then yawned. “You okay?”

“I’m a guy with a metal-coated skeleton who went toe to toe with a guy who controls metal. I just want my kids to cuddle with me and read stories in bed all day.”

“They’ve really missed you so they might like it too,” said Tony. 

The kids came down in new outfits, and Win said, “Daddy, do we have a trampoline here?”

“No, honey, not at this house,” said Tony. “You guys will get to jump on the trampoline once we move into the Tower.”

“Can you please go upstairs, brush your teeth and put on your clothes for today?” said Logan.

“Remy said we could wear our PJs home; we didn’t bring clothes for today,” said Kitty. “He says you can stay in your PJs as long as you like after a sleepover.”

“Well, Remy knows more about sleepovers than me because he’s young and cool,” said Logan with a shrug. “Go brush your teeth and put away Win’s dress-up clothes and any other mess you three made. He shouldn’t have to clean it up by himself, and then we’re going to go home, and you’re going to fill me in on everything I missed, okay?”

“When we go home, can we have storytime in your bed?” asked Hank with hopeful eyes. 

“I would love to have storytime in bed,” agreed Logan. “I was just telling Mr. Stark that that’s exactly what I want. I’m tired after stupid ol’ Magneto.”

“I want him to go to prison,” said Kitty.

“Me too,” said Logan. “Now, go brush your teeth and tidy up Win’s toy box.”

All three of the kids ran off, and Logan smiled after them, “I live in a house full of kids. I’ve seen them grow up, go to college, make lives. And after years, I know that kids are not angels. Some of them are obnoxious little assholes that should be grateful I didn’t strangle them. But I got my two. I got good ones.” 

“You did,” agreed Tony. 

After they left, Steve felt like he had to get to work. He looked at the street clothes he had that weren’t in D.C.: respectable enough. He said, “Hey, JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want to go over to the VA, and I don’t want company. If I slip out, can you not tell the others right away?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t alert Sir to your movements even without you asking. This house is not bugged, you’re free to come and go as you wish. If asked, would you like me to tell Sir you simply went for a walk? I can keep confidences. I’m not a spy.”

“No, you can tell him the truth, I just want to go without people offering to come.”

“I won’t tell anyone until I’m asked.”

“Thanks,” said Steve.

“I hope you get what you’re looking for, Captain.”

He sighed, “Me too.”

He slipped out downstairs, hearing voices in the kitchen, and then walked to the address Tony had given him. He went in, and a man at the desk looked up and appeared stunned. “Sir, hello. Are you here for a speaking engagement?” he started looking through a book with a mild look of panic.

“No, I’m not here as Captain America, just as Retired Captain Rogers. I want to make some friends my own age, and Tony Stark thought maybe I could talk to someone about my sleep,” he felt embarrassed, and he said, “Tony said shellshock is called PTSD now and that doctors can help. He said the VA might be able to help with that.” He scratched the back of his neck; maybe Tony didn’t think it was embarrassing, but Steve had been told it was a weakness.

The man nodded, “Yes, absolutely. I’m so glad you aren’t here for a speaking engagement: I didn’t get enough coffee for that, and I hadn’t set up a room.”

Steve laughed, “No, I have to sleep on the floor ‘cause my bed’s too soft, and I’m scared I might fall through it. I’m not doing any sort of public speaking.” He spoke softly because there was a woman at the other end of the desk. 

“I had the same problem, drove my girlfriend insane and air conditioning… I was so used to being hot in the desert all the time that I had to sleep on the roof of our building just so I wasn’t so damn cold,” said the man. “This is the sort of thing the VA’s good at.” He turned to his computer and said, “Do you know your service number?” Steve rattled it off. “It sometimes takes people six months to get into the system, but I have a feeling that you may have been fast-tracked, as you’re almost seventy years overdue.” He smiled at his screen, “There you are. I can book you in for your C&P exam next Thursday.”

“C&P?” repeated Steve. 

“Compensation and Pension, a doctor will check you out, maybe not even physically, maybe just talking, and decide your best treatment, and then using an equation sheet, a claims processor will figure out how much money you’re getting for treatment. Once that starts, we can get you in to talk to a psychiatrist. Sorry, it’s slow. I might be able to talk to Washington. You have a Congressional Medal of Honor so they might speed it up.”

Steve shook his head, “If it’s good enough for everyone else, it’s good enough for me.”

“It’s not good enough for any of us, but it’s what we all get.”

“Then that’s what I get too,” said Steve. “Vets have never been well taken care of, but I wanted to fight Nazis.”

The man smiled at him. “I can do your intake now, if you have time?”

“I don’t have a job, or a family, or anything: I have all the time.” Then he added, “I’m Steve.”

The man smiled as he stood and held out a hand to shake, “Sam Wilson. I’m usually in Washington, but I came up to check on my mom after aliens invaded, and then I heard they needed someone to fill in here.” Then he nodded over his shoulder, “Come into an interview room, and we’ll get the process started.” 

The man was easy to talk to, which was good as he wanted to know about trauma, and Steve faltered as he spoke about seeing his best friend since he was eight-years-old plummet to his death, about Bastogne, about the POW camps and the concentration camps and Schmidt’s red face. Steve played with his water bottle a lot. Then he shrugged, “And then the way I woke up.” He spoke of the lie SHIELD had tried to sell him and seeing Times Square all alien. “How much of this feeling of loneliness is the fact that I was dumped into civilian life seventeen days ago, and how much is the fact that it’s not civilian life in 1945? Some stuff is better, no doubt: better food, no polio, poverty seems a little lower, a little less racism, a little less sexism, a little Jewish girl showed me her Star of David without pausing… but some stuff… it’s like being back in Europe and being so confused by the locals.”

“PTSD, feeling that disconnect: the treatment is going to be the same if it’s time travel or fighting in the bloodiest war in history. I think that, until they get you with a doctor, what might help is support groups, vets sitting around and talking. Talking helps, listening helps: you are not alone. You’re not the only person who is currently sleeping on the floor. It took me about three months not to duck and cover when I heard a car backfire, and there are a lot of people still going through that. There are a lot of people who left a war zone two weeks ago. They weren’t in Germany, but they were in combat. So I think for you, as you’re special, you should be checking out the groups for both the World War II vets and the newly-home soldiers. You need to talk about your war, but you need to also talk about the one you’re still fighting right now. Because you’re not out of the war, you aren’t going to be until you can sleep in the bed, or hear certain songs without weeping or get through a week without feeling like you’re living in an episode of the Twilight Zone.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a science-fiction TV show, it was good: you should check it out,” said Sam.

“Okay,” said Steve. “There’s a lot I need to catch up on, I need a list.”

“How much are you exercising? It can really help sleep.”

“A hundred and fifty sit-ups and fifty pushups before coffee, fifteen-mile run before breakfast, ten-mile run before bed,” said Steve. “It stops me from overthinking… I have too much free time. I swam laps for a full hour this morning.”

Sam studied him for a moment, “Why only fifty pushups? I’m not being funny, it’s just why do fifty pushups and a hundred and fifty sit-ups?”

“I hate pushups,” Steve shrugged.

Sam nodded, “May I make a suggestion?” Steve nodded. “You’re the world’s only super-soldier, through practice and science, you became the physically perfect man. If you hate pushups, don’t do them. You’re not in the army anymore. It’s not going to change your physical shape. Drop the pushups.”

Steve thought about it and nodded slowly, “Anything I should know before I go in there? Anything I might have missed in the ice that a soldier should know before talking to others?”

“Women can serve now, we have a female Army Surgeon General and a few four-star generals who are women. Gay people can serve openly,” said Sam. “I think those are the major differences for the Army. Is that going to be a problem? Because some of the vets you’ll be talking to are going to be women, and some are going to be gay.”

“Agent Peggy Carter was the most brilliant strategist I knew, and Gabe Jones was one of the most attractive people I ever met.” The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No,” said the man slowly. 

“Are you sure?” asked Steve with a smile. 

“Are you messing with me?” asked Sam. 

“Your generation didn’t invent attraction, Sam. Gabe could play the trumpet and had the nicest smile, but his beard was ugly. He was always more handsome when he was clean-shaven.”

“Are you sure you aren’t messing with me? The history books make it seem like you and Peggy Carter had a thing.”

“Peggy was the great love of my life. I was going to woo her and propose. But, just because I adored her, doesn’t mean I didn’t notice that I spent a lot of time with a gorgeous man.” The man was still looking at him. “Are you sure you’re not uncomfortable?”

“I’m fine,” said Sam.

“You seem it,” agreed Steve with a smile.

“I’m usually better at that,” said Sam. “It’s just you don’t expect a national icon to casually say he’s bisexual.”

“I’m not saying it in public. I’m saying it as one soldier to another who is concerned about my being unkind to others. I am surprised at how accepted being gay has become; I’m not disappointed.” He thought of Tony’s startling admission of sleeping with both men and women and his indifference to his son’s nail polish and tutu. He thought that maybe he could have held Gabe in public in this time, and perhaps no one would have minded. Although he had never even thought to tell Gabe how he felt. He’d loved Peggy, wanted Peggy, he’d just had a giant crush on the man. It was still illegal for him to be with a man when he went into the ice. Looking over the pamphlets and time schedule, Steve said, “Is that meeting for my war’s vets in five minutes? Is this schedule right?”

“It is, let me walk you down,” he stood and started to show Steve out. “I’m going to put in your first eval paperwork so that your C&P exam can go smoothly.”

“How did I do?”

“Exceptionally sane, considering. We went through the checklist: it’s PTSD and situational depression. It’s nothing more than that, but it is that. It’s a genuine medical problem, but we know what it is. We got this. Drop the pushups,” said Sam with a gentle smile. The man led him to a meeting room and said, “We have the very finest bulk bought coffee and Costco cookies… actually, I really like the cookies. I’ll be at the desk afterward. Let me know how it goes?”

“Thank you for your help, Sam, I really appreciate it,” said Steve. The man walked away, and Steve took a deep, fortifying breath before entering the room. 

The room was filled with old men. On the one hand, it made sense; on the other, it was wrong. A man glanced up from the coffee machine and said, “Think you’re in the wrong room, kid.”

“No,” said Steve, softly, “No, it’s the right one. I’m just a hair late s’all.” 

The man looked at him, having finished pouring his coffee, and his eyes went wide, “Oh my God, you don’t look any different than you did in Hürtgen Forest.” Now people were paying attention; watching him.

“I’ve got a scar on my knee now,” said Steve. “Hürtgen Forest was a little under a year ago for me.”

“You’ve had a haircut.”

He nodded, “A week before the ice,” he agreed. The man handed him a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing here?” asked the man.

Feeling tense, needing to break that strain just a little, Steve said, “I’m here to talk to you about Series E Defense Bonds: each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun.” They both started to laugh, and Steve said, “It’s the VA, don’t we all end up here?”

A man called over the group, “We never get anything done, get coffee and sit down.”

“Can you call this stuff coffee?” asked another. 

Steve said, “It’s pretty good.”

“It’s better than that mud we drank over there, but it’s still terrible,” said one of the guys with a laugh. 

“I was drinking that mud a couple of weeks ago,” said Steve. Lifting his cup in a toast, he said, “Tastes great.”

They sat down in folding chairs set up in a circle, and Steve thought it was absurd that this was so stressful to him. The man in charge was familiar, and Steve was studying him. “I haven’t seen you since I mooned you in Germany,” said the man with a smile.

Steve laughed, “I was trying to place you.”

“Sorry, we threw stuff at you,” said the man. Steve laughed again. “You’re the first new member of our group we’re had in quite a long time. Our number shrinks. It doesn’t grow. So what brought you to us?”

“I haven’t been sleeping… My bed is soft and weird, and I have nightmares. And Tony Stark said that they call shellshock PTSD now and there are treatments now, and you’re not told it’s a lack of moral fiber and to just get on with it. So I came to see what that treatment was because I would really like to be able to sleep in a bed instead of the floor. And, ever since I woke up, I have been surrounded by children. Some of them are older, I guess, I’ve been awake for twenty-five years, and they’ve been awake longer but… I say things, and they look at me like… This man was typing on one of those computers, and he was so fast, better than any secretary I’ve ever seen. And I said, ‘Wow, you’re aces.’ And the guy laughed and said, ‘You’re such a cute throwback.’ And I just felt nauseous. I feel like I’m in their weird world where I don’t speak the language, and they’re children. People keep commenting on my accent. And they look at me and see Captain America, not me; it’s like there’s a sheet of glass between them and me. So I wanted to hang around with people who are my actual age, who won’t laugh when I say something that I think is normal. I want to be around people who have mooned me because I’m only Captain America when I have the shield. The Avengers are nice, but… And the guy at the desk out front thinks maybe I should come to this group and one for vets who just came home and maybe he’s right, because — hopefully — all of you have forgotten how hard it is to sleep, but maybe we can talk how badly they dress. These people dress like rag-a-muffins and palookas… Anything, I just need to be with people who aren’t alien.”

“It’s not their clothes, it’s their music that is awful,” said another man.

“And they listen to that awful music all the time: they can’t go ten minutes without a screen with music and information,” said another. 

“I don’t understand the hipsters. When do they have time to develop such an awful youth culture when they’re so busy with their social media updates?” said another.

“The hipsters are the ones with the bad facial hair and hair in buns?” asked Steve. “When we hit the town, we always put on a suit and dames put on nice dresses, and we looked good. They don’t even look like they’ve bathed.”

People talked about their lives for a couple of hours, problems they were having, things that made them feel good, and Steve sat listening. Their cadence and word choices were familiar; a few had old New York accents that were softened by time but still similar to his own. It felt good, easy to sit and listen. At the end, Steve was feeling relaxed, Mark, the guy who had mooned him, said, “Steve, do you play bocce?”

“We used to play it on the green by Sheep Meadow when we were kids,” said Steve. 

Mark smiled, “We still play it there. Thursday morning at eight a bunch of us, some guys from here and some from just around, old guys like us. You should come. It’s not competitive, we don’t care who wins, no one puts in an effort we just play and have a bull session.”

“I would really like that,” said Steve.

“Okay, tomorrow morning, eight at the bocce green by Sheep Meadow,” said Mark.

“Thank you, Mark, for the invite.”

“Sorry, we threw stuff at you,” said the man. 

“The big wigs sent me out there to cheer up the troops… never understand it unless you’re on the ground. Of course, you didn’t give a damn about the Star-Spangled Man. You’re out there cold in tents, up to your necks in violence and mud. What the hell kind of respite is a man in tights? The USO girls all had great gams. If something can distract you, it ain’t gonna be the dancing monkey. Knowing that even the guys in charge in Washington didn’t understand the reality of being out there? It’s shocking any of us got out alive… reverse our places, and I would have heckled you too, Mark.” 

“You saved nearly four hundred men the next day,” said Mark.

Steve nodded and said, “But that day, I did a choreographed soft-shoe.”

Mark laughed, “Yeah… but those women did have truly wonderful legs.”

Walking out, Steve saw Sam at the desk and smiled. He stopped by and said, “I got invited by a guy who mooned me once to play bocce tomorrow.”

“That’s great,” said Sam. “That’s a result.”

“So that’s tomorrow morning,” looking at the schedule, Steve said, “any suggestion for what young vet group to go to? There are eight here.”

“Not the one for people who lost a limb,” said Sam. He glanced at them, clearly ruling some out. Then he turned to the woman at the other end of the desk. “Which of these four young vets meetings is nicest?”

“Thursday’s was very macho,” she said. 

“What Tony Stark calls toxic masculinity?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Sundays are quite religious. Mondays are more the bake sale crowd, people trying to forget. Wednesdays are young active guys mostly.”

“Okay, Mondays then. I’m living with superheroes; I have people to run with but no one to hand me muffins. Why did you rule the others out?” he asked Sam. 

“They all come right before or follow AA meetings, you have problems and responsibilities, don’t add other people’s to your pile.” Sam took a card from a stack, “I’m write down your C&P exam time; don’t miss it: it’s important, and they get pissed when you miss it.” Flipping it, he said, “This is my number and my address. If you’re in D.C. and you need a friend or someone to help you, I’m around.”

“Um, Peggy’s niece is there,” he paused. He asked softly, “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” said Sam with a laughing. “Just casting you a wide net for friends. Not flirting.”

“Okay, ‘cause I’m not ready for… anything like that.”

“I’m straight,” said Sam. “You’re handsome, but I don’t like guys.” 

“Good, I need as many friends as I can get.” He smiled, “Thank you for everything today, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Steve. And if you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll give you a call once I watch that Twilight Zone.” Sam smiled and leaned over the desk and shook his hand warmly.

Steve walked back to the house, feeling lighter. At the gate, he looked at the keypad and realized he didn’t know the code. He could have jumped the barrier, but he didn’t want to break in. He pushed the button and said, “JARVIS, it’s me, Steve Rogers. Can I come in, please?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. How was it?” 

The gate swung open, and Steve pressed the button, “Thank you, JARVIS. It was terrific.” He walked up to the house and found the front door unlocked. He opened it as Tony was walking toward the door, “Hi,” said Steve. 

“Hey, J said you went to the VA. How was it?”

“Pretty great, actually, I have an appointment with a doctor to figure out what the VA is going to pay for and what the treatment should be. And then I went to a group and shot the shit with a bunch of vets from my war, one of them mooned me once and threw stuff at me… he invited me to play bocce tomorrow… It was pretty great.”

“Awesome,” said Tony with a grin. “That’s great.”

“I don’t think I can take that road trip. I’ve got my doctor’s appointment and a couple of group meetings.”

“Well, you know mechanics, right? Howard said you used to fix stuff by yourself. Maybe buy an old bike, restore it, get ready for your road trip in style. Peter’s going to be in and out of the house, and I don’t know what Bruce’s plan is, but you have a bedroom now. We need to go home, Win and I, this is not our home. I need to see my doctor. I need to see my robots. My baby needs to feel safe.” He sounded apologetic.

“Tony, you flew into a hole with a bomb, and you woke up alive. I flew into the ice with a bomb and woke up in a new time.” Steve smiled, “We both need to talk with doctors and get our heads straight before we can move into the tower. You should go home to someplace happy. I have good memories here. I’m grateful for your hospitality.” 

With a nod, Tony said, “One of us would have gone with you to the VA, y’know, y’didn’t have to do that by yourself.”

“I knew that,” said Steve, “that’s why I left quietly. Sometimes you just need a little time.”

Tony smiled, “Win is the great love of my life, the friend I made myself. Nothing makes me happier than his smile, his voice. But sometimes, just sometimes, the best part of my day is when he’s napping, and I can blast my music in the lab by my lonesome. Everyone’s getting their own floor in the tower, but there will always be company if you want it.” 

“Thanks, Tony. Is Win napping now?”

“No, he is doing ballet with ‘Tasha in the gym. I actually just woke up from a nap. I was going to go watch. I know that she was taught ballet by a brutal, sick, disturbing branch of the KGB who kidnapped, brainwashed, and mutilated little girls to turn them into gruesome assassins. Ballet was a weapon. But, watching ‘Tasha in ballet flats, teaching Win will never stop being funny.”

“Is he good at ballet?” asked Steve, following Tony toward where the gym was, it had been there in Steve’s time too. 

“He’s four, Steve, he has yet to master the art of not tripping over himself. Most ballet teachers say that children shouldn’t start ballet until they are eight because they’re bones aren’t strong enough. Win knows the five positions, and he really likes spinning around with Natasha. I’m sure Natasha could dance Swan Lake at seven, but Win’s just playing with his aunt and dressing up as a ballet dancer, he’s not actually learning, and they haven’t seen each other in a month.”

As they approached, Steve could hear shrieks of laughter. Opening the door, Tony revealed Natasha, spinning with Win in her arms. She was up on the toes of one foot while Win was giggling, hands clasped over his head. “Daddy!” Win laughed, “We’re doing the twirls.”

“How is the ballet going?”

“He’ll be the lead in the American Ballet Company by the end of the week,” said Natasha.

“Aunt ‘Tasha, show them the arabesque,” said Win as she set him down, and Natasha moved into a perfect arabesque. “It’s so pretty,” said Win. “Can you dance, Steve?”

“Tap and soft-shoe, not ballet,” said Steve.

“Can you teach me?” asked Win. “Do I get new shoes?” 

Steve looked at his pink ballet shoes and said, “I think those are good for soft-shoe, and we can work toward tap.”

“Can you show me a move?” he asked with a big smile. 

“Sure,” said Steve. He knelt to untie his own shoes and said, “The most important part of tap and soft-shoe is that you have to be light, just pretend you’re dancing on sand.” He walked Win through an elementary step. “Good job, Win, you’re a natural.” Win held up a hand and, confused, Steve shook it.

“No, high five,” said Win.

“What’s a high five?” asked Steve.

Tony said, “You slap each other’s hands to celebrate.” He held out a hand, and Natasha hit it, making a clapping noise. Holding out a hand to Win, he said, “Good job, baby, new skill.” Win slapped his hand and then looked expectantly at Steve. 

Steve held out a hand, and Win hit it. “Excellent soft-shoe, Win. Where is your tutu?” The little boy was just wearing black pants and a white t-shirt.

“When I do kicks, sometimes, my foot gets caught. Ballerinas wear sticky-outie tutus whereas mine hangs down or they have ones that don’t have as much tulle or isn’t as long as mine. So I gotta take mine off for dancing and just wear it for playing. This is what boy ballerinas wear to practice. Y’wanna see me do a split?”

“Yes, please,” said Steve. Win instantly dropped into a full front split and then a side split. “Wow.”

“Aunt ‘Tasha says splits can get harder as you grow up, but I’m good at them.” He stood up and said, “JARVIS, drop a beat please.” 

An obnoxious song started, “When I walk on by, girls be looking like damn he fly. I pimp to the beat. Walking on the street with in my new lafreak, yeah.”

“Yay,” said Win.

“Your taste in music sucks,” said Tony before he started to dance with his son. Natasha moved to the barre and began a routine that was both ballet and yet to the beat. Win laughed as he danced. 

The song ended, and Tony said, “One I like, JARVIS.” 

A louder, differently obnoxious song started, “All you women who want a man of the street, but you don't know which way you want to turn.”

“Ew, old people music,” said Win, but he was smiling and dancing with his dad. 

“I’m old, I like old people music,” said Tony, twirling his son.

The song ended, and Steve said, “JARVIS, would you please show Win that old people music is great. Do you have Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy?”

It played, and Steve started to dance an easy soft-shoe dance without a partner. Win looked at him quizzically, and said, “Is it a joke?” 

“No, baby, some people like music that’s different,” said Tony.

“But it’s so bad,” said Win. “At least yours sounds like music.”

“Really?” asked Steve, still dancing. “This is great music.”

“Nanny likes this stuff too,” said Win as Tony twirled him. “I don’t.”

“But you like Katy Perry,” said Natasha, “so you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

The song ended, and Tony said, “I think it’s nap time, Win.”

“No, Daddy, don’t make it be nap time.”

“Baby, you had so much fun with your friends last night, and it’s time for you to take a nap so that you can have a nice evening.”

“But I’m thirsty.”

“My universe is under your skin, Win, remember that. So, keeping in mind that my universe needs to be safe, protected and true inside you, are you thirsty?”

“No, but I don’t want to take a nap.”

“Why don’t I nap with you?” offered Tony.

“You just took a nap,” said Win.

“Not cuddling with you in a pillow fort,” said Tony.

“Okay,” said Win, and he put up his arms to be lifted. Tony lifted him and stroked his hair. 

“We’ll see you in a couple of hours,” said Tony to Natasha and Steve. “What do you say to ‘Tasha and Steve?”

“Thank you for my dance lessons,” he said, before putting his head on Tony’s shoulder, already flagging.

“You’re welcome, Win, sleep well,” said Natasha before Tony took Win from the room. Natasha stretched out at the barre again, stretching slowly. JARVIS changed the music to The Sleeping Beauty ballet. Natasha moved to it easily. 

“It’s beautiful, Natasha,” said Steve. “You really are skilled.”

“Thank you, Steve, I know, but thank you.”

“How do you dance en pointe without the shoes?”

“Practice and acceptance of pain,” said Natasha. Then she did a series of handstand layouts. 

“That’s not classical ballet,” said Steve.

“No, that’s just me, have you eaten lunch?”

“No, I’ve been at the VA all morning.”

“Did you get anything from it?”

“I met some nice guys who do like that song,” said Steve. 

“I don’t hate it,” said Natasha. Holding out a hand, she said, “Do you want to dance.”

He looked at her and said, “I never danced with a girl… not a couple’s dance. Peggy Carter and I were going to go dancing after the war.”

She put her hand down. “I’m not stepping on Peggy’s toes. She scares me. I will not get between that. You two need to dance first.”

“How is she?”

“She’s Peggy: intimidating, brilliant, beautiful. She’s older, but she’s still Peggy. She still scares the shit out of everyone at SHIELD. She’s an older woman now, your age, but she’s still amazing, Steve. She’ll know if I stole her dance. Let’s get some lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hair is so hot because I'm dying it blue and it's gotten to the hot phase of dying. California is on house arrest. It's a beautiful day and I am stuck in my apartment looking out at a very quiet San Diego. Please send love, kudos and comments ' cause I am so damn lonely!


	7. Chapter 7

For the next couple of days, a lot was going on. Bruce watched it with detachment. He went to the bank and got access to his old accounts. He went out to Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s and Century 21. He bought himself important staples, a new wardrobe to fit a new life. He bought new shoes. He got clothes that fit who he was now, this grown man. He got himself several suits, nice shirts, jeans, a couple of sweatshirts, sweats. Too many clothes to carry in a backpack. He was committing himself to this life. Natasha and Clint went to D.C. to wrap up projects. Steve left after bocce to pack up his apartment in D.C. 

“Make my cousin help you pack, it will be faster and then you can hang out with Peg and you can fly back with them on Saturday,” said Tony. 

Bruce watched it happening. He did research on the proper ways to study dangerous bodily fluid. He’d done a lot of work with radioactive materials but never bodily fluids. He ordered his supplies but couldn’t pay for them. He needed a lab number. It was frustrating. He was alone in the lab. And JARVIS said, “Dr. Banner, I alerted Sir to your problem. He says to use code 174369.”

“This isn’t for Stark Industries. This is personal.”

“Yes, 174369 is Sir’s personal code for when he needs something and has to use a lab’s license to buy it.”

“I can’t let Tony buy this stuff for me.” 

There was a pause, and then he said, “Sir would like you to pay him back in food. The food you have cooked recently has been excellent, and Master Edwin usually won’t eat food if Sir does not prepare it. I informed Sir of the total cost of your materials. He says that it’s ten meals at your leisure. Shall I put the order in?”

“Yes, please, JARVIS, thank you.”

“Neither this lab nor the one in Malibu are equipped for this work. You’ll have to wait for Edwin Tower to be fixed. But the contractors are bringing in more men, and you should all be moving in in six weeks.”

“Six weeks? Even with all the changes we made to the floor plans?”

“Sir believes the point in having money is to spend it.”

“Is the Damage Control project working on this?”

“Damage Control has already cleared out the parts of the building that endangered the public and is working on some of the lower floors, yes. However, Sir is personally controlling the living quarters. It’s very important to him that everyone’s floor is to their exact liking and that you can all move in soon. Interior construction is going on twenty-four hours a day to ensure you can all move in as soon as possible.”

“Why is it so important?” asked Bruce.

“Because Sir knows what it feels like to feel homeless with a roof over your head. He was raised in a house where his presence was suffered, not wanted. He wants all of you to have a place that is yours.”

“He just met us,” said Bruce.

“Many people see Sir’s larger than life persona and believe that is where he ends as a person. They see all of his charity work and humanitarian efforts and believe it is for PR. Sir is generous to a fault. Sir believes in superheroes, both their abilities and worth and their power of inspiration to others. He wanted the Avengers Initiative to work. You need a place as a base. Agent Romanoff is family, Mr. Parker is family, Agent Carter is family, Captain Rogers is here because Tony’s family’s organization pulled him out of the void. As far as Sir is concerned: he owes them homes. With Agent Barton and the Son of Odin, he feels it’s the best step for the Avengers. But, for you, Dr. Banner, you’re a science bro. That’s not a title all scientists are given. Many of the brightest scientists in the world have met Sir. They have spent time, partied, hangout and worked with Sir. They are not science bros. You joined the ranks of a fraternal order with very loose membership qualifications but very solid membership. You’re in, and there’s no getting out: you’re one of us now. You get a floor, a perfect floor, to call your home, and no thanks are needed because you belong there.”

“I don’t think I deserve that,” said Bruce. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you aren’t the one who gets to decide your value to the Starks.”

“So, I’m your science bro, and you still won’t call me Bruce?”

“Dr. Banner, I don’t crack into your skull please don’t try to crack into my code.” 

“Sorry, JARVIS, won’t push it again.” 

“Thank you. Master Edwin is asking when you will be doing yoga and if it will be before bath time.”

Win had told him about how he danced with Natasha, swum with Tony, did aerobics with Pepper, and said, “Can I do your work out too?”

Bruce had faltered and said, “Win, mine is less of a workout, and it’s medical treatment; it’s not as much fun, and it’s quiet.”

“How ‘bout, I try, and if I’m too loud, you tell me to go play with Daddy. I want to try, please?” 

Bruce had walked Win through the beginning of his routine. After twenty-five minutes of slow, quiet stretching Win said, “I’m bored now, thank you for letting me play with you.” He ran out, and Bruce just kept going, getting progressively more complicated. He sat down, crossing his legs, he breathed slowly, letting himself meditate and slowly, ever so slowly fall into a trance. 

He felt himself sink deep, and he silently said, “Hey there.”

“Little Win good,” his other responded. 

“He is,” agreed Bruce.

They had talked for an hour, easy back and forth. They were both good. Now he said, “JARVIS, please tell Win I’m going to do it right after dinner.”

“Is this wise, Dr. Banner? Don’t you usually do it in silence? I don’t intend to pry, but I do wish to be as useful as possible as a tool to assist with your mental health.”

“Really?”

“I have been a useful tool to help Sir in the past.”

“How so?”

“Sir was asked to talk more about his feelings. He is a very open person now, and is fine with me speaking about his health care. But, he had a much easier time talking to an AI program than a human back then. Are you sure you want Master Edwin there? I can easily tell him that it isn’t possible without you having to disappoint him.” 

Bruce sighed, “The real problem is that I do my yoga at five in the morning, and my schedule is thrown off and it’s making me antsy. I’m fine, Hulk is fine, but I am getting antsy. And yoga tonight won’t help. Hulk thinks yoga is boring.”

“I’m informing Master Edwin that it won’t be possible because yoga is time-sensitive and that you have to do it in the morning. I will tell him that you have been thrown off recently but that, for your health, you must follow your schedule.”

“Thank you, JARVIS. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“No one does, Dr. Banner, Sir is deeply worried about the Avengers being aware of the Iron Teddy’s bathing routine. Master Edwin has a face that encourages honesty and discourages any form of strife.”

“He’s lovely.” Bruce was still looking at the Stark pad he was using. 

Photos of Win started to flit over the screen, videos. He saw Win in a sling on Tony’s chest, napping on Tony’s shoulder, taking his first steps, calling Tony Daddy for the first time, painting, sucking a pacifier in the lap of Peggy Carter, dancing in a diaper with Tony, wearing a lab coat and grinning at his dad, riding a tricycle. “He’s the great love of Sir’s life. Sir’s mental health has improved by leaps and bounds since Afghanistan. I would like for him to have a healthy adult relationship, but Sir is happier within himself now than he has been for the entirety of my existence… I believe I have played a role in his health, though I know Master Edwin’s existence has been a much larger role… As I said, use me as a tool.”

“Thank you, JARVIS, please tell Win that yoga happens at five AM if he wants to join me.” 

He cooked dinner for Tony and Win, a mild chicken curry. Win asked for his company at bath time. Tony said, “What’s the rule?” 

“Everybody owns their own body and their time, and you can’t demand either of people,” said Win. “And you don’t need an excuse to say no. You can just say, ‘I don’t wanna,’ because that’s okay.”

“Exactly,” said Tony, “and when we all move into your Tower, Bruce is going to have his own floor, and you have to ask permission when you want to visit him. Right?”

“Right, it’s okay if you gotta do more research or wanna not hang out for the bath,” said Win.

“Well, I finished my research, so I can keep you company,” said Bruce. 

In the bathroom, Bruce saw that Win’s was as lavish as the rest. There was a giant sunken tub, and all the surfaces were marble. But the bath itself was surrounded by colorful buckets of plastic toys and the shampoo was Iron Man brand No More Tears. His body wash had Wolverine on it. Tony stripped off his shirt and said, “Bruce, it’s up to you, but you may want to take your shirt off. Win’s baths tend to splash. But his colorful water doesn’t stain materials.” He shook some capsules into his hand and said, “Yellow, blue or green, Win? We’re out of red.”

“What about purple?” asked Win.

“That’s one red and one blue, and we used up the reds.”

“Orange?” asked Win.

“That’s one red and one yellow. Maybe you and Steve can talk about how colors work, I’m sure he would like that because he is an artist.”

“Oh, okay, green, please.” Tony held out two little tablets and Win dropped them in. 

They started to fizz, and Tony said, “Bath bombs for babies.”

“Yay,” Win grinned, watching the fizzing. He stripped off and climbed down the stairs into the bath. “I love bath time.” Tony smiled at his son and started scrubbing him. 

“You’ve always been my water baby. Are you excited for Nanny to come tomorrow?” asked Tony.

“Yeah, ‘cause we get to have all weekend with her and Peter’s gonna come, and we’re gonna set off our volcano: glitter and carnage. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“So awesome,” agreed Tony. “So much carnage.” He scrubbed Win clean and then started dumping toys into the bathtub. Win wound up a little boat and filled a squirt gun that he then used to steer the boat into a floating duck and then made crashing noises with his mouth. Tony picked up another squirt gun and started shooting the boat back toward Win. Win started laughing, and Tony handed Bruce a gun, “Won’t you join the fun, Dr. Banner?” 

Bruce laughed and filled the gun, the three of them giggled as they tried to push the boat toward each other. Tony wound up more boats making more targets. The laughter got louder, and Win was shrieking with giggles. It wound down and Tony said, “Now, baby, you need a good night’s sleep. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Nanny will be here.”

“Can I please sleep in your bed, Daddy?” 

“Yes, of course you can, Win.” Tony opened the drain and took an Iron Man hooded poncho towel from a hook. He swooped Win up and dropped the towel over his head. The poncho fell into place, and Tony started to rub him dry. “What PJs do you want tonight?”

“Professor Xavier, please,” said Win. 

Tony picked him up and slung Win over his shoulder. “Okay, ‘jamas and poems time.”

“Bruce should have a poem,” said Win. 

Bruce didn’t understand what that meant, but Tony said, “I need to think about that. Bruce is still a new friend, and it takes me a little while to think up the poems.”

“If all the Avengers are gonna move in, we need lots more poems,” said Win.

“What poems?” asked Bruce.

“Win’s bedtime poems, I tell Win poems,” said Tony. “And the lineup changes. It’s always ‘Goodnight, Edwin,’ and ‘No More Coffee, Daddy.’ But sometimes we also do, ‘Put Down the PDA, Pepper,’ or, ‘Smile, Happy, No More Bull Today,’ Or, ‘Uncle Rhodey, Even Colonels Gotta Sleep,’ or, ‘Aunt Share, Rest Your Head.’ Or ‘Tasha Put Your Knives Away.’” Tony explained. “I need a little time to write yours, maybe, ‘The Lab Will Be There in the Morning, Bruce,’ maybe, I have to think about it. I have to find out why you don’t go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

Bruce laughed, “‘No More Bull’? In a bedtime poem?”

“Uncle Happy swears lots,” explained Win. “He’s always calling stuff bull: always. He’s always grumpy with grownups.”

“Maybe I can help write it,” said Bruce.

Tony shook his head, “No, they’re a gift: I write them for my friends.”

“Who wrote yours?” asked Bruce.

“That was a gift I gave myself,” said Tony.

“Daddy’s the very best at poems,” said Win with evident pride. “Better than Dr. Seuss even.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty big comparison,” said Bruce. 

Tony maneuvered his son into his pajamas, Win was obviously sleepy already. “I’ll think of Bruce’s poem and one for Clint, and Cap, and Thor.”

“And Peter, and Wade, and Nanny,” said Win. 

“Yeah, I have a lot of poems to think up. I’ll work on them when we’re at home in Malibu.”

“We’re gonna be surfing again so soon, Daddy.”

“So soon,” agreed Tony. “You and me and a longboard.”

“And then we’ll come back to my beautiful tower, and we won’t have the ocean, but we’ll have a giant lab and my new playroom. I can see my friends lots, but I won’t get to see Aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy every day, which is sad, but maybe Nanny will move in. And Aunt Pepper is still gonna take me to grownup doctor lunch once a week when we go home for Daddy to talk to his psychia-wrist.”

“Why do you call a psychiatrist a grownup doctor?” asked Bruce, concerned because mental health wasn’t just for adults.

“No, silly, the lunch is the grownup thing,” said Win. 

“A grownup lunch is one eaten in a restaurant with cloth napkins. Win’s always been well behaved, and he liked fancy restaurants a lot when he was a toddler,” Tony explained. “Back when Pep was my PA, they used to have grownup shareholders meeting lunch and grownup dentist lunch and all sorts of grownup lunches. But, once she became the CEO, her schedule got even more hectic, so now they just have grownup doctor lunch.” Smiling at Win, he said, “When Uncle Happy is in charge, what do you get?” 

“Sports dentist lunch,” said Win.

“Happy can always find some game or match of some sport to get tickets,” Tony shrugged, “it’s a magic power.” 

“We get hot dogs or burgers or pizza,” Win shrugged. “It’s fun. Who is gonna take me out for lunch in New York?” asked Win, biting his lip.

“Me,” said Bruce instantly, “We’ll have Central Park dentist lunch. We’ll feed the ducks and bring a picnic. How does that sound?”

Win smiled, “Good. But what if it’s raining?”

“Pool party with pizza,” said Bruce without hesitation.

“So much fun,” said Win. 

“Yeah,” agreed Bruce. 

Tony scooped Win and the Iron Teddy up, “My bed?”

“Yes, please, your bed.” Tony carried him through and tucked him in the middle. Bruce sat at the foot as JARVIS dimmed the lights as Tony spoke softly, simple rhyming poems. As he finished, Win said, “Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, JARVIS.”

“Goodnight, Master Win.”

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Win.”

“Love you, Win. Where’s my universe?”

“Under my skin.”

“Yup, and my universe needs some rest now,” said Tony.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“Sleep well,” Tony kissed him and stood. Bruce followed him out of the room as it went fully dark. With the door firmly shut, he said, “I was afraid last night might be the end of my baby sleeping in my bed. I’m not ready for it to be over for good. I would like him to occasionally get out of my bed just so maybe a second grownup can sleep in my bed, but I also really like cuddling with him.”

“You’re a good dad.” 

“I know,” said Tony. “I used to demure and say thank you when people complimented me, but then I just thought, ‘Own it.’ I am a good dad. I have no reason to be, Howard sucked — and I’ve always been an asshole — but I wanted to be a good dad. I read the books, I went to the classes, I went to therapy and he’s so well-adjusted. Coffee? Beer?”

“Tea,” said Bruce.

They went back down to the kitchen, and Tony said, “So, have you decided whether or not you’re coming to Malibu? No pressure, just nosy. Got to decide if I’m taking Win in the Win carrier, or we’re taking a plane.”

“Win carrier?” asked Bruce. 

“It’s sort of a case, backpack, car seat thing I wear on the back of my armor. He gets a view, and we get home way faster than on a plane. I’m happy for you to stay here, if you would rather, I just want to book the plane if we need it.”

“I’ll talk to Hulk in the morning and get back to you. He doesn’t like planes, but he does like you and Win. So, I’m not sure. I’ll bring it up in the morning. I’d like to see Malibu.” 

Tony smiled at him, eyes twinkling, “Okay.” Downstairs, Tony handed Bruce’s cup to him and put a new mug into the machine. “So, you’re ordering stuff for your experiments? Do you want help? Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’ll think about what I need help with.”

“Cool, my kid isn’t the only one who wants to play with you in the lab. I haven’t had a fulltime grownup playmate in the lab since Rhodey and college.” Tony was still smiling, that sparkle in his eye.

Bruce felt something in the pit of his stomach rolling. And he said, “My bodily fluids are highly radioactive, Tony. I want to be safe to be around people.”

“We will make you safe to share a bed or a glass, or whatever you want.”

After they parted, after several more cups of tea and coffee, Bruce slipped into a deep sleep. He woke at five and stretched, falling easily into yoga, it felt good. It was comfortable. Then he meditated until he finally heard the voice. “Little Win nice. Tiny Tony nice. Stay.”

“Tony and Win aren’t staying. It’s a plane or New York.”

“No plane.”

“You can’t have Win and Tony without the plane. What do you want to do?”

“No plane, hide.”

“You want to stay?”

“No plane.”

“Steve lives here. Are you okay with that?”

“Stupid American,” said Hulk.

“What do you want to do here, brother? Because Tony needs to book the plane.”

“Like tin man. Like ADA. Like little Win. Like kind. Like smile. Like hug.”

“Plane?”

“No plane.”

“For the hugs and Win, you need the plane. For the kindness and ADA, you don’t need a plane, they’ll be home in six weeks.”

“Skype, smiles? Warm bed, cooked food, clean skin, plane?”

“No. We don’t need a plane for warm food and Skype works. We don’t need the plane for our needs, just for hugs.”

“No plane. Stupid American fine, warm bed, cooked food, clean skin: stay.”

“Okay, we stay and — in six weeks — we’ll be in our beautiful home with Win and Tony right upstairs.”

“No plane,” said Hulk.

“No plane,” agreed Bruce. “Anything else?”

“Nice to me?”

“Who do you want to be nice to you?”

“You.”

“I am nice to you.”

“Tiny Tony nicer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nice to me.” 

Bruce hugged himself tightly. “Better?”

“Hold,” replied Hulk.

Bruce held himself tightly until he fell back to sleep. When he woke up at eight, he shambled down to the kitchen. On the stairs, he said, “JARVIS, can I please have delicious tea?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

In the kitchen, he saw Tony cooking and Edwin sitting at the counter. “Soft boiled egg?” asked Tony.

“No plane,” said Bruce.

Tony nodded, “Okay, that’s fine. Egg?”

“Yes, please.”

“Nanny will be here for second breakfast, I just wanna egg,” Win smiled. “What’s no plane?”

“I won’t be coming to Malibu,” said Bruce. 

“You get to ride in the Win carrier home, Win, we’ll get there so fast. Then it will be sun, lab and fun. And, in six weeks, we’ll be back with Bruce in your beautiful tower.”

“I’m so happy to share your beautiful tower,” said Bruce. “My floor is gorgeous.”

“Good. I want everyone to be happy in my tower,” said Tony, smiling, eyes crinkled. 

“Let me show you my beautiful floor, Win,” said Bruce, pulling up the specs on the table for Win to see. 

Win flicked through the floor plans, “It’s boring.”

“I like it,” said Bruce.

Win got to Hulk’s rooms and said, “These are good.”

“Those are for Hulk.”

“I like his rooms more,” said Win. 

“I’m sure I like Daddy’s room more than yours,” said Bruce, “and Hulk likes yours more than Daddy’s. It’s a matter of taste.”

“What toys does Hulk have in his rooms?” asked Win.

Bruce started showing him the toys, and Tony said, “Any interest in this?” He tapped the table as he put down the eggs, a picture of a Hulk doll popped up with specs, it was eight feet tall, “It’s life-size, perfect for cuddling.”

“I want one,” said Win and Bruce at once. 

“Bruce, do I have your permission to send this to manufactures?”

“Yes, and I want one for my rooms,” said Bruce.

“Me too, I want one for my room too,” said Win.

“Okay,” Tony hit the picture and sent it spinning off the table. Then he opened Win’s egg for him. “Nanny’s gonna be here so soon, eat your egg.”

“I love soft boiled eggs,” said Win, conspiratorially to Bruce.

“It was your very first solid food,” said Tony, “Nanny told me that babies in England start with buttery toast with marmite and soft boiled eggs. And I think marmite is gross, so you got buttery toast and eggs.”

“I like buttery toast too. Not as much as soft boiled eggs, but I do like it too.”

Tony guided his son’s face to kiss him, “You’re my favorite. My whole universe is under your skin,” said Tony.

“I’ve got all your good parts,” said Edwin.

“The very best,” agreed Tony. He dipped the spoon into Win’s egg. “Eat, Mr. Win.” He opened his own egg and said, “Nanny will be here soon. Eat, and we’ll put on daytime clothes.”

Tony ate his own egg as he talked about how great the weekend was going to be. Then the noise of weird whooshing engines was overhead, and JARVIS said, “Your new quinjet made a beautiful first trip.”

“Excellent,” said Tony. The door opened, and Tony said, “Peggy!” An old woman came and hugged him. “Happy weekend.”

“Tony, my beautiful boy. You look tired on the east coast.”

“Once we’re installed in the Tower, I’ll be well-rested. You, on the other hand, look beautiful. I meant for us to be out of PJs by the time you came, I failed,” he kissed her cheek before pulling back.

“Nanny,” said Win, happily. He put his arms up, and she went and scooped him up. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, darling.”

“This is Bruce, Nanny, Dr. Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is Nanny.”

She stretched out a hand and said, “I know so much about you, my boys are big fans. I’m Peggy.”

“Bruce,” he responded, shaking her hand. 

Win tugged on her free hand to get her attention. “Cleo is in New York now, and Daddy’s intern Peter is nicer in person, and I miss you. And Daddy wants you to move into my tower, but I’m not allowed to pressure you.”

“You want me to move in, Tones?” asked Peggy.

“I was going to ask you prior to Win not pressuring you,” said Tony with a small smile. He tapped the table, and the mocked-up images of Peggy’s floor filled the surface. “Obviously, the furniture is just for these images, I know you have nice furniture.” He pointed out Sharon’s bedroom, bathroom and sitting room, “For visits,” he explained to his cousin. Then he showed the third bedroom with a kitchenette and living area, “For at-home nursing — if you need it — when you’re old.”

“Tony, I’m ninety.”

“But you’re still spry,” said Win. “You still pick me up.”

“You’d be living with Win, ‘Tasha and Steve, think about that: it’s a perk.”

“And you,” she said. 

“That’s a very small drawback,” said Tony with a smile.

Peggy rolled her eyes and then sat at the table, opening her arms to Win, who clambered into her lap. “It would be nice to be close to my boys. And tea with Natasha.” She smiled at Steve, “We could have fondue any time we liked.”

“Any time,” agreed Steve.

“When are we moving in?” asked Peggy and Win grinned and bounced in her lap.

Tony was also grinning, almost as excited as his son. “Six weeks. I can send some men and oversee them packing up your things myself.”

“Can you help me sell the house?” she asked.

“Of course, Peg. Don’t worry about anything.” He clapped his hands together, “Pancakes, waffles, omelets or grilled cheeses?”

“Pancakes?” Peggy asked Win.

“Pancakes,” agreed Win. “Bruce makes the best pancakes: even better than Daddy’s.”

“Better than Daddy’s?” repeated Peggy with disbelief.

“I’ll make them for you to prove it,” said Bruce with a smile. He started working, making quadruple the regular batch of mix. Hulk was close to the surface, which made him hungry, and Steve could eat a lot. Tony greased the giant skillet for him. 

Win was babbling happily to his grandmother about his sleepover and his volcano. Peggy listened with a smile, keeping him in her arms the whole time. Steve had brought a suitcase from D.C. Bruce smiled at him, “We’re going to be roomies here, for a while until the tower is fixed.”

“Good, this place is too big to be by myself.”

“I have no idea how I’m going to spend my time. There’s only so much yoga and cooking I can do. Last few years… I’d volunteer at a free clinic, but my doctorates aren’t in medicine, I’ve been practicing medicine for almost the last decade.” He laughed, and Steve laughed too. 

“Your lab is going to be finished in a week,” said Tony. “You can start setting it up. I can start sending you projects, we can Skype.”

“Really?” asked Bruce. “That soon?”

“Yeah, if you want to take more time to acclimatize, that’s fine, but it will be ready. Also, I don’t like my GP, so consider yourself hired.”

“I don’t want anyone taking samples from me,” said Steve. “You’re my doctor,” said Steve. “I heal fast, but I need it to be stitched up before it heals.”

“See, you’re getting a patient roster already,” said Tony. “Clint seems like the kinda guy who skips medical. You’re gonna end up the Tower’s doctor.”

“Barton is awful at medical,” confirmed Sharon. “So is Natasha.”

“I need vitamin B12 shots,” said Peggy.

“Your day is filling up,” joked Tony. “Maybe take the next few weeks to do tourist stuff, maybe you and Steve could relearn the place together. Then you can hit the ground once we’re all home.”

“I would like that,” said Steve.

“Okay,” said Bruce, “that could be good.”

“Awesome, everyone has got a plan,” said Tony.

“I like our plan best, ‘cause we’re gonna take an armor ride home, and then we’re going to go surfing.” 

“Are you on your own board now?” asked Sharon.

“No, I still share Daddy’s, but I’m getting really good, right?” he looked at Tony.

“You’re doing so well,” agreed Tony.

“I didn’t know kids as young as you could surf,” said Steve. “It was a pretty new sport back in my day.”

“Hal Edwards is a world champion and also a big advocate of kid’s surfing. I had him come teach me how to help Win learn. Because I wanted my water baby to grow up to be a beach boy. Do you know, Win, that the water is so much warmer here that you won’t even need your wet suit?”

“Really? So we’ll keep surfing.”

“Yeah, and with the suit, it’s a thirty-minute flight back to Malibu, we can go for a few hours just to surf.”

“How do you teach a kid to surf?” asked Steve. “Jim surfed; loved it. But how do you teach a kid to do it?”

“It started from the moment Win could crawl, making sure the ocean was fun and that surfboards and surfing and the sea were just normal parts of daily life, and now Win can even stand up on the board.”

“I’m a beach boy,” said Win with a giant grin that hurt Bruce’s heart.

“How will you keep you beautiful tans once we all move into your Tower?” asked Peggy.

“Playing outside and weekends in Malibu,” said Tony.

They had a nice breakfast, and then Peter came and said, “Are you ready to explode?” Then he saw Peggy and said, “Hi, Mrs. Sousa, I’m Peter.”

“Peter, it’s so nice to finally meet you, call me Peggy.”

Bruce used up all the pancake mix, handing a plate to Peter, and then when the plates were empty, Tony said, “Explosion time?”

“Yes,” said Peter, “please mix three cups of baking soda and glitter and, Win, what color do you want our lava to be?”

“Orange, please.”

“Some red and yellow food dye then, Tony.” Tony mixed the powder, and Peter said, “I’ll go get the volcano.”

“Need a hand?” asked Steve.

“Stronger than I look,” said Peter, “but thank you.” 

He scuttled off down the stairs and Win said, “I’m so excited. We made the mouth of the volcano smaller than most people do, so we’ll get a geyser for lava instead of a regular volcano. Because of pressure. Bruce, how much pressure is there in our volcano?”

Bruce felt himself smiling and started breaking down the math based on chemical reactions and the size of the volcano and its mouth, Win listening with rapt attention. When Bruce was done, Win said, “Nanny, isn’t Bruce amazing? He’s a real physicist.”

“He is amazing, and I’m so glad you’re going to be friends. But, you know Daddy’s a real physicist too,” said Peggy. 

“But he’s not a real, real physicist,” protested Win.

“I have PhDs in physics, mechanical engineering and electrical engineering,” said Tony.

“But Bruce has four more, and he’s called ‘Doctor,’ and you’re ‘Mister.’” Win shook his head. 

“Who is the best dad in the world?” asked Sharon.

“Daddy,” said Win firmly.

“That’s the most important title I could have,” said Tony, scooping Win up into his arms. “We’re going to put on real clothes once we’re done with the volcano, okay?” He kissed Win neck, making squeaky noise, making his son giggle and squirm in his arms. 

“Daddy!” Win shrieked.

Tony placed him on his feet and then measured out vinegar as Peter came up with the volcano, “Win, grab the door, please.” 

Tony laughed, “That is a monster.” Tony grabbed a funnel and both his measured jugs. They all headed outside, and Peter said, “This might kill your grass, Tony.” 

“We’re not going to live here much longer, Bruce and Steve can cope with an ugly patch in the garden until we move into the Tower. Right, guys?”

“I really want to see this eruption,” said Steve. “It’s absolutely worth some dead grass.”

Win carefully poured the powder through the funnel, and then Peter said, “May I have the honors of doing the wet part? You gotta sprint out of the splash zone.” Peter pulled safety goggles for everyone out of his pocket. They were really for show, a costume, but Win loved costumes and playing games. 

“Okay, Peter,” agreed Win. “We did it together, and I did the baking soda so you can do the vinegar.” They all put on their safety glasses and stepped back. Peter slowly poured in the vinegar and then removed the funnel before running toward them as foam started shooting straight out of the volcano. The size and smallness of the hole had it spewing up fifteen feet. Win reacted with so much excitement, “Will the foam hurt?”

“No, not at all, but it might stain,” said Peter, and Win did a shockingly fast strip and ran into the foam as it fell back down. It continued to shoot and bubble out of the volcano.

“How long is this going to go on?” asked Tony.

“Theoretically, three minutes. But, I might not have poured it in perfectly, so maybe we’ll lose a little oomph.”

“Three minutes?” repeated Bruce. “That is one big volcano.”

Peter grinned, “The one I made when I was a kid has a twelve-ounce water bottle as a receptacle; this one has six liters. It’s epic.”

“Next up: Mentos and Diet Coke,” said Tony.

“That’s not chemistry,” said Peter, “that’s a physical reaction. I’m doing chemistry.”

Tony rolled his eyes behind his safety goggles, “Want to come over tomorrow and watch the physicists teach a baby about nucleation?”

“Sure,” said Peter, “sounds fun.”

Tony watched his son with a gentle smile, and Bruce had to force himself to look away. He could stare at Tony for hours, there was a beauty to the man. He was Venn diagram of sharp edges and brilliance that all spun around a center of kindness and warmth. Bruce wanted to curl up in that space and stay forever. It was dangerous. And Bruce wasn’t sure, didn’t trust himself on this. Did he want Tony because he was lovely? Or, did he want Tony because the man was offering him everything he hadn’t had for so long — stability, a job, a home, kindness, companionship? He didn’t want to want Tony just because Tony could offer him the world. He wanted to be sure he wanted Tony just for Tony. Tony’s mouth was pouty, and Bruce wanted to believe that he wanted against his skin solely because of his personality. Watching the man with his son, Bruce felt his heart swell and he thought he would want to be a part of Tony’s life without the money or the help. The volcano finally finished up, and Win said, “That was awesome! I’m covered in glitter.” He twirled, looking at his sparkling naked skin.

“Let’s towel you off,” said Tony. “You don’t have to take a bath, just a wipe down to get rid of the smell.”

“You won’t take away my sparkles?”

“I don’t think a bath would get rid of your sparkles, I don’t think a month of baths is going to take all this glitter out of your pores.”

“Yay!” said Win. 

Tony swept Win up into his arms and said, “Let’s get you dressed for the day.” Tony’s tank top was soaked by his son’s skin. His nose wrinkled, “You reek of vinegar. We’ll clean you up, and then we’ll take Nanny out for a day in the park. Share, are you coming? It is a family day out.”

“I have to hit the office for maybe an hour. Save renting a boat for last?”

“Sure, Share,” said Tony, “we can do that. We’ll be home by midafternoon so that Win can have his nap and Peg can have a cup of tea.”

“And maybe a nap,” said Peggy. “I am not as young as I once was.” 

“Maybe naps all around,” said Tony. “First: clothes. Pete, leave the volcano to dry out here. I’ll deal with it this evening.” Tony walked into the house.

“My boy is a force of nature, isn’t he?” said Peggy with a smile. The others started up to the house, and she caught Bruce’s wrist, keeping him back. “He always wanted people, and what he got in this place,” she pointed at the house. “Well, it wasn’t kindness. He smiles at you. He likes you.”

“Mrs. Sousa,” said Bruce.

“Peggy,” she corrected.

“Peggy, nothing is going on between us. Tony is a smiley guy.”

She nodded, “Maybe nothing is happening, maybe it’s an old woman’s romantic imagination. Maybe it’s one-sided and he has a crush that isn’t shared — or maybe it is shared. Or maybe, like I said, it’s all in my imagination. But he smiles at you. So, if it isn’t just my imagination, I just want to say, he’s a good man, and he deserves to be treated as such. It’s very important to me that people treat him the way a good man should be treated.”

“He is a good man,” agreed Bruce, “he’s a very good man. I know he views you as one of the most formative people in his life. You should be very proud of the man he is.”

She smiled, “Let’s go up to the house.”

Bruce thought it was the most polite shovel speech he had ever heard. In the house, he started to clean up the kitchen with Peter at his elbow and when Tony came down in jeans and a black t-shirt that the light didn’t shine through. Tony said, “Win, let’s collect all the plates, okay?” Win started to gather the dishes, and Tony put them in the dishwasher, thanking his son for the help. “Bruce, Steve, do you want to come with?”

“No, it’s your family time,” said Bruce. “I might write my procedure guides for my personal experiments.”

Steve had longing in his eyes. He and Peggy had been physically touching each other for eighty percent of the morning. But the man said, “You have your family time. Peggy and I will have lots of time to catch up.” 

She kissed his cheek, “We’ll be home later this afternoon.” 

Steve smiled at her, lighting up at the kiss, “Have fun.”

Tony left with Win and Peggy, and Sharon left for the SHIELD office. Bruce and Steve were left alone. “What are you doing today?” he asked. 

“There’s a bake sale at the VA on Monday,” said Steve. “I thought I might try to bake cookies. I could cook, back before the war, when I was by myself. But I never tried to bake.”

“I can help you,” said Bruce. “If you want.” So he set about teaching Steve to make ginger snaps. “You know we’re going to have to share these, right? We can bake more on Monday, but Tony and Win both have sweet tooths.”

“I know, I just needed to learn today.”

“So, you and Peggy had fun when you were down there?”

“We danced, waited all these years for that dance… I don’t feel ninety-two. And she doesn’t seem ninety. I look at her, and she’s still twenty-three. But, really, she’s widowed. She had a whole life. She’s a grownup, and I’m still a kid from Brooklyn. All I want is the life we supposed to have. I don’t care if we look different. I don’t care if people think we look weird. I want the life we never got to have. I still want to marry her. But I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I’m accepting that. But, I just want to stay in this pocket of time before she tells me I’m a fool and gives me my marching orders. I know I need to move on and meet someone nice in the future, but… for this little while, I would like to ignore the future and just be us. Crazy?”

“I’m really the last person who should give mental health advice,” said Bruce. “She’s very nice, beautiful. I know, from the history books and the documentaries that she’s brilliant. It took me years to accept that there was never going to be a relationship between Betty and me again. Our lives diverged. It took me years. But I did move on, that’s the good news. I lost my world, not the same way you did. I went from being on the fast track for being a tenured professor with a beautiful, brilliant girlfriend and a dog to being a fugitive practicing medicine in developing nations without running water. And coming back, it’s never going to be the same. We both underwent medical experiments to create a super-soldier. You went to war, I went on the lam, you got frozen I got very bizarre education. I know it’s not the same, I know you lost more, but we can both build lives here. And who knows, maybe you and Peggy can work it out.”

“I worry she’s too traditional,” said Steve.

“You won’t know unless you ask,” said Bruce. 

“I’m going to take a knee with a ring, and she is going to shoot me down,” Steve breathed out. 

They made a large batch of cookies, and Bruce said, “There. On Monday, if you need help again, I’m around.”

“There’s, um, a street fair this week. I love street fair food: cheap, hot and greasy. You want to go? I mean, what Tony said… If you’re up for it. I’d like the company if you have the time.”

“Sure, I like street fairs: busier, the better. They feel like the places I’ve been living. So, let me know, it seems like the VA is going to be keeping you busy.”

“Not busy enough,” said Steve. “I’m hoping they still have zeppole.”

Bruce has always been a loner, he didn’t think Steve was. All the stories were about Steve and Bucky, Steve and Howard, Steve and Peggy, Steve and the Commandos. He had never been alone, and Bruce didn’t like the idea of the man being lonely. Maybe the VA just wasn’t enough. 

“I don’t think there is a street fair in the whole world that doesn’t have fried dough coated in sugar,” said Bruce. 

Bruce just hoped he wasn’t on suicide watch. He wasn’t sure he could help with that. But he could at least try to be company. 

For the rest of the weekend, Win stared at his grandmother with loving, star-struck eyes as they did puzzles and read stories together. Win kept adding things he wanted to the toy lines. Tony kept building them for him, as soon as Win could think them up. Tony had them signing off on two to three designs a day. Win was getting more and more excited and said, “My toy collection is going to be bigger than anyone else’s on Earth.”

“Yours is already better than ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of the population,” said Tony.

“But it will beat everyone’s once I’ve got all the Avenger Teddies.”

“Yeah, and they will be waiting for you on your bed in the Tower when we move in. A house warming gift from me to you.”

“Can I get you a house warming gift too, please?” asked Win. 

“I would like a nice drawing for my wall,” Tony didn’t hesitate; he clearly knew what he liked. “One where you use all your favorite colors that I can put in a frame, please. That’s what I want.”

“Okay, Daddy: I’ll paint it, with my prettiest paints.”

“Thank you, sweetheart: that would be a perfect present.”

“Win, may I have one too, please?” asked Peggy.

“Of course, Nanny: a really nice picture, just for you.”

“Thank you, darling.”

On Sunday afternoon, Peggy and Sharon flew to D.C. A metal suitcase came from California and Tony said, “Ride’s here, kiddo. Are you all packed up?”

“Most important outfits and toys,” said Win, nodding. “The rest will be sent to my Tower, right?” 

“Well, ‘sent’ is an awful big word. I’ll pop over here and pick it up,” said Tony.

“I can bring stuff every time I go to set up my lab,” offered Bruce. 

“Thank you, Bruce. That’s very nice of you. You can put it in Daddy’s lab ‘cause that’s my lab too,” said Win.

“Thank you, Bruce,” said Tony. He went upstairs and came back with a packed suitcase. He opened it, revealing tutus and soft toys. Tony added sneakers and a couple of ratty tank tops. Clearly, they were important to Tony, important enough to bring back across the country. “Win, go to the bathroom, baby, there’s no in-flight bathroom.” He zipped it and opened the metal suitcase, pulling out an Iron Man suit. Tony opened a crate that had a weird pod in Iron Man colors.

Win bounced down the stairs and said, “Look, it’s the Win carrier!”

“It is,” agreed Tony. “You’re going to need a new one in a couple of months. You’re getting taller and taller.”

“Too big to carry?” asked Win, looking worried. 

“Not until you’re fifty-one, you know that. And when I’m in my armor, you will never be too big.” He looked around and said, “I think it’s time to go. We’ll see Bruce and Steve in five weeks. So, say goodbye.”

“Steve’s running, but I’ll say goodbye for you,” said Bruce. 

“Okay,” Win opened his arms. Bruce swooped him up. “We’ll Skype,” said Win. “It’s very nearly good enough.”

“I look forward to Skyping,” said Bruce. 

He pulled back, and then Win said, “One more, for Hulk?”

Bruce gave him a second hug, “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” said Bruce before Win was climbing into the pod that would have made Bruce claustrophobic. 

The carrier sealed itself, and Tony hugged Bruce briefly, “Say bye to Steve for me.” 

The hug surprised Bruce and he blinked a couple of times before saying, “I will. Don’t do anything crazy in Malibu.”

“Surf, sun, toys and a new prototype for my suit. Then a new water filter for the developing world: revolutionary. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Tony hugged him again, “That one’s for Hulk.” He put on the armor, hooked the carrier to his back and said, “Be kind to yourself while we’re away, Dr. Banner.”

“Always am, nowadays,” promised Bruce. Then Tony was flying out the door, holding Win’s suitcase. It was the most domestic superhero-related vision Bruce had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how is everyone's life? Sheltering-in-place sucks for me. Move to So Cal, they said. It will be fun, they said. I love comments and kudos.
> 
> I have been leaving two weeks of breathing space between each story but, with being stuck at home, I will probably end up posting the first chapter of the next story next Monday (but, don't hold me to that: it needs editing).


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